• 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 


Of  GMJF.  LIRKARY.  LOU 


THE 


SECOND  BULLET 


BY 

ROBERT  ORR  CHIPPERFIELD 


NEW  YORK 

ROBERT    M.  McBuiDE    fcf  COMPANY 

1919 


Copyright,  1919 

by 
ROBERT  M.  McBRIDE    &  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


Published    March,    1919 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  LADY  AND  THE  ENIGMA    .         .        i 

II.  WOMAN  DISPOSES     .         .                        13 

III.  WHAT  THE  DAWN  BROUGHT     .         .       25 

IV.  QUESTIONS        .         .         .  38 
V.  A  STRING  OF  PEARLS         ...       50 

VI.  THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL     ...      62 

VII.    LIES 75 

VIII.  A  BRIBE  THAT  FAILED     ...      88 

IX.  WITHOUT  ALIBI        ....      99 

X.  THE  CONSERVATORY  DOOR  .         .         .in 

XL  "!F  I  HAD  ONLY  KNOWN!"      .         .     123 

XII.  AN  UNSEEN  WITNESS       .         .         .     135 

XIII.  WHERE  DEATH  LURKED    .         .         .     147 

XIV.  Miss  ADARE  GOSSIPS  .         .         .         .158 
XV.  THE  SECOND  BULLET         .         .         .171 

XVI.  THE  WARNING          .         .         .         .183 

XVII.  THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW      .         .     195 

XVIII.     IN  THE  NIGHT 206 

XIX.  WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED         .     218 

XX.  THE  TORN   CARD      .         .         .         .231 

XXL  THE  WOMAN  FROM  FRENCH  LICK     .     242 

XXII.  THE  YELLOW  STREAK        .         .         .     253 

XXIII.  THE  KNOCK  UPON  THE  DOOR    .         .     264 

XXIV.  JACQUES  BENOIT  LAUGHS  LAST   .         .     275 


2129644 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 

Chapter  I. 
THE  LADY  AND  THE  ENIGMA. 

"X  "IT  THO  is  she,  anyway?"  Beatrice  Ledyard  placed 
^7^7  her  coffee  cup  upon  the  tabouret  and  raised  her 
hazel  eyes  with  a  curious  feline  glint  in  them  to 
her  mother. 

sMy  dear  Trixy,  what  a  question !"  Mrs.  Ledyard  waved 
a  plump  hand  deprecatingly.  "I've  been  talking  of  Mrs. 
Hartshorne,  and  the  invaluable  aid  she  has  given  us  in  pre- 
paration for  the  Red  Cross  bazaar — " 

"I  know,  but  is  she  going  to  take  charge  of  a  booth  her- 
self? Is  she  going  to  appear  in  any  capacity  ?"  Trixy  pur- 
sued. "Doesn't  it  strike  you  as  a  bit  odd  that  in  all  the  six 
months  she  has  been  here  in  Eastopolis  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
has  never  appeared  at  any  more  public  function  than 
church?" 

"You  don't  mean  that  she  might  possibly  be  afraid  of 
meeting  embarrassing  acquaintances  from  the  past,  do  you 
Trixy  ?"  a  guileless  voice  asked  sweetly  from  a  low  chair  by 
the  fern-banked  hearth,  and  Bebe  Cowles  helped  herself 
lazily  to  another  lump  of  sugar.  "It  would  be  simply  fasci- 
nating to  find  that  we  had  an  adventuress  in  our  prosaic 
exclusive  midst." 

"I  mean  that  she  has  managed  in  this  short  space  of  time 
to  get  in  with  all  of  us  and  yet  we  know  no  more  about  her 


2  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

than  if  she  had  dropped  from  the  clouds.  Who  and  what 
was  Mr.  Hartshorae?  When  did  he  die,  if  he  is  dead,  as 
she  claims?  Did  Mr.  Hartshorne  ever  really  exist?" 

"Aren't  you  a  trifle  hard  on  her,  Trixy?  Of  course  she's 
made  a  slave  of  every  unattached  man  in  our  set,  but  we're 
bound  to  get  some  of  them  back  on  the  rebound!  At  any 
rate,  it  seems  a  bit  late  in  the  day  to  begin  asking  awkward 
questions."  Bebe  shook  her  golden  head.  "Your  mother 
would  never  have  taken  her  up,  I  am  sure,  had  there  been 
anything — well,  baffling  about  her.  Of  course,  we  all  fol- 
lowed dear  Mrs.  Ledyard's  lead-" 

If  Mrs.  Ledyard  divined  a  hint  of  amused  malice  in  the 
childlike  tones  she  rose  majestically  above  it. 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  committing  social  errors,"  she 
asseverated.  "Anyone  qualified  to  discriminate  could  see 
at  once  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  breeding  is  unassailable  and 
I  think  it  is  scarcely  in  good  taste,  Trixy,  for  you  to  utter 
vague  insinuations  against  such  a  charming  woman.  If  she 
avoids  thrusting  herself  forward  in  public  affairs  it  is  due 
to  her  modest,  retiring  disposition ;  an  attitude  all  too  rarely 
encountered  in  these  days.  As  for  me,  I  don't  know  what 
I  should  have  done  without  her  on  the  National  Defense 
Committee,  to  say  nothing  of  the  French  Orphans  and  the 
Armenian  Relief — " 

"I'm  insinuating  nothing,  mother ;  I  am  merely  curious." 
Trixy  was  the  only  person  living  who  dared  to  interrupt  her 
mother.  That  dominant  lady  writhed.  "I  grant  you  that 
she  has  not  attempted  to  establish  an  actual  intimacy  with 
any  of  us ;  rather,  she  has  held  us  at  arm's  length.  But  may 
not  that  be  as  much  against  her  as  in  her  favor?  As 
to  her  social  position  among  us,  of  course,  she  has  made 
herself  indispensable  to  you  in  your  war  work  and  to  Dr. 
Ferrine  in  parish  matters;  but  the  ladder  of  charity  has 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  ENIGMA  3 

been  used  by  every  climber  since  our  social  system  was 
organized.  Aside  from  the  fact  that  she  has  been  abso- 
lutely silent  about  her  antecedents,  has  she  mentioned  a 
single  person  of  whom  we  have  ever  heard  outside  Easto- 
polis?" 

"My  dear,  you  are  allowing  your  sudden  prejudice  to 
carry  you  to  absurd  lengths,"  her  mother  responded  coldly. 
"I  trust  you  will  not  permit  your  manner  to  betray  it  when 
she  drops  in  later  for  bridge.  Mr.  Swarthmore  is  bringing 
her  on  from  the  Gaylors'  dinner,  you  know." 

"Neely  Swarthmore  doesn't  appear  to  share  your  sus- 
pisions,  Trixy,"  Bebe  remarked  slyly. 

Trixy  darted  a  scornful  glance  at  her  bosom  friend,  but 
she  responded  quietly  enough- 

"They  are  not  suspicions,  merely  conjectures.  There, 
the  dining-room  doors  are  opening!" 

"I  was  wondering  if  your  father  would  ever  let  them 
escape !"  Mrs.  Ledyard  began,  but  the  voices  of  the  three 
men  who  completed  the  sextette  of  the  little  dinner  party 
traveled  before  them  as  they  crossed  the  music  room,  and 
made  her  pause. 

"Marvelous!  Most  extraordinary  business  acumen  for  a 
woman!"  The  sleek,  pompous  tones  of  Wendle  Braddock, 
President  of  the  Eastopolis  Trust  Company,  came  unctuously 
to  their  ears.  "She  banks  with  us,  you  know,  and  I've  at- 
tempted more  than  once  to  advise  her  in  her  financial  deals, 
but  events  have  proved  the  wisdom  of  her  own  decision." 

"I  know  it!"  Colonel  Ledyard  laughed  genially.  "Had 
the  same  experience  myself  with  her,  as  she  trades  through 
me.  She's  invariably  on  the  right  side  of  the  market." 

"It  is  precisely  this  remarkable  executive  ability  which 
makes  her  work  in  the  parish  invaluable,"  chimed  in  Dr. 
Perrine's  rounded  pulpit  tones.  "Extremely  generous,  too 


4  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

—ah,  ladies!    I  fear  we  have  kept  you  waiting,  but  the 
Colonel's  reminiscences  were  so  diverting — " 

"Of  whom  were  you  speaking  just  now?"  Trixy  asked, 
moving  significantly  to  make  room  for  him  on  the  daven- 
port beside  her. 

"Of  our  dear  friend  Mrs.  Hartshorne."  The  minister 
accepted  her  gestured  invitation.  "She  has  been  of  inesti- 
mable value  in  the  parish." 

"So  I  understand."  Trixy  raised  her  eyebrows  and  after 
a  moment  added:  "What  church  did  she  attend  before 
coming  here,  Dr.  Perrine  ?" 

"Let  me  see."  He  balanced  the  tips  of  his  fingers  to- 
gether reflectively.  "Was  it  St.  Thomas's  in  New  York,  or 
St.  Christopher's  in—?  Dear  me,  my  memory  is  really  so 
bad!" 

"But  surely  she  told  you?"  The  sentence  was  more  a 
statement  than  a  question,  yet  it  contained  an  inflection 
which  increased  the  Reverend  Dr.  Perrine's  discomfiture. 

"Well  really,  I — she  must  have  mentioned  it,  of  course, 
but  I  confess  it  has  slipped  my  mind.  She  has  taken  her 
place  so  modestly,  yet  so  willingly,  in  affairs  of  the  Church, 
that  it  quite  seems  as  though  she  had  always  been  a  member 
of  the  congregation.  Don't  you  agree  with  me,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Ledyard?" 

"I  do,  indeed!"  that  lady  responded  with  emphasis. 
"She  will  be  here  at  any  moment.  You  don't  object  to 
bridge  I  know,  Doctor,  in  a  worthy  cause  ?" 

"Mr.  Braddock," — Trixy's  velvety  tones  had  sharpened 
— "we  all  know  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  has  deposited  her  sur- 
plus capital  with  your  Trust  Company.  Would  it  be  an 
indiscretion  for  me  to  ask  you  how  those  deposits  were 
made?  I  mean,  did  she  give  checks  on  any  similar  insti- 
tution in  another  city,  anything  by  which  the  source  of  that 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  ENIGMA  5 

capital  could  be  traced  if  the  necessity  ever  arose  for  such  a 
proceeding?" 

President  Braddock's  pendulous  cheeks  had  reddened 
between  his  white  side-whiskers. 

"My  dear,  I  cannot  imagine  such  a  contingency.  As  I 
recall,  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  deposits  were  made  in  cash  and 
negotiable  securities,  but  it  is  really  a  most  extraordinary 
question !" 

"What  on  earth  put  such  an  idea  into  your  head,  Trixy?" 
demanded  Colonel  Ledyard.  "Mrs.  Hartshorne  is  a 
thoroughly  estimable — " 

"Father!"  she  interrupted  him  imperiously.  "You  your- 
self say  that  she  is  a  sharper  on  the  market,  that  she 
played  it  as  if  she  had  tips  from  the  very  brains  directing 
each  coup.  What  brokers  did  she  deal  with  before  coming 
to  you,  and  where  did  she  learn  the  game?  On  the  Bourse 
or  the  London  'Change  or  in  Walll  Street?  What  do  you 
actually  know  about  her  previous  transactions  ?" 

"Trixy!"  her  mother  exclaimed  in  a  scandalized  voice, 
while  the  Colonel  eyed  his  daughter  in  amazement. 

"Bless  my  soul,  I  never  asked  her!  When  a  young 
woman  comes  to  you  with  a  brain  like  a  steel  trap,  orders 
which  make  you  sit  up  and  take  notice,  and  bona  fide  se- 
curities to  carry  them  out,  you  don't  ask  her  for  references 
like  a — a  housemaid,  you  know." 

"Exactly!"  Trixy  sat  back  with  a  satisfied  air.  "That 
is  just  the  point  I  wished  to  bring  out.  Remember,  I  have 
nothing  aginst  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  But  I  know  nothing 
about  her ;  nor  do  any  of  you.  Without  social  or  financial 
reference  on  her  part,  without  on  your  part  the  slightest 
knowledge  of  who  or  what  she  really  is,  you  have  all  taken 
her  on  trust  merely  because  she  has  a  Madonna  face,  an 
ingratiating  manner  and — ready  cash!  Dr.  Perrine  is 


6  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

usually  most  particular  about  the  antecedents  of  his  flock—" 

"Most  assuredly,  my  dear  Miss  Ledyard !"  The  minister 
raised  his  hands  in  shocked  expostulation.  "But  there  can 
be  no  question  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne !" 

"Has  there  been,  when  she  came  here  a  stranger  and 
has  studiously  remained  one!"  Trixy  turned  to  the  older 
men.  "A  minister  or  a  social  arbiter  like  mother  may  judge 
from  mere  appearance,  but  I  ask  you  frankly  if  it  is  usual 
for  financiers  to  accept  a  client  without  business  references, 
solely  on  the  face  value  of  money  and  securities  negotiable 
anywhere — which  might  have  changed  hands  a  hundred 
times  and  in  as  many  ways  ?" 

"Certainly  not !"  Mr-  Braddock  retorted ;  for  the  Colonel 
seemed  beyond  speech.  "I  myself  received  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
and — studied  her,  if  I  may  say  so.  I  am  rather  a  keen 
judge  of  human  nature,  my  dear  young  lady,  and  I  am  fully 
convinced  that  she  is  unassailable  from  any  point  of  view." 

"So  are  all  the  men  1"  Bebe  Cowles'  childish  treble  broke 
in.  "Dear  chivalrous  things,  and  so  infallible!  What  are 
references,  anyway,  except  a  tactful  means  of  foisting  upon 
gullible  strangers  an  incompetent  or  dishonest  person  we 
wish  to  rid  ourselves  of?  I'm  referring,  of  course,  as  the 
Colonel  did,  to  the  hypothetical  housemaid.  I  for  one  am 
perfectly  content  to  be  guided  by  the  quick  unerring  judg- 
ment of  a  keen  man  of  the  world." 

She  smiled  up  into  Wendle  Braddock's  fatuous  eyes. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  a  gratified  rejoinder  when  the  butler 
threw  open  the  wide  doors  leading  into  the  hallway. 

"Mrs.  Hartshorne!  Mr.  Swarthmore!"  he  announced, 
and  stepped  aside. 

Mrs.  Ledyard  rose  with  a  sigh  of  relief  to  greet  her 
guests,  who  entered  together;  a  tall,  dark-haired  man  of 
forty,  whose  well-bred,  clean-cut  countenance  bore  the  un- 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  ENIGMA  7 

mistakable  lines  of  one  who  had  traveled  many  roads,  and 
beside  him  a  delicately-molded,  gracious  figure,  whose 
serene,  confiding  face  bore  the  look  of  one  to  whom  all  roads 
meant  a  safe  and  welcoming  haven. 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  young,  obviously  in  her  early  in- 
definite thirties.  Her  face  was  of  quite  a  usual  type,  fair 
and  softly  oval,  with  tender  sensitive  lips,  blue-gray  eyes 
and  brown  hair  simply  banded  about  a  small  head.  Nothing 
gave  it  distinct  individuality  save  perhaps  the  small  v-shaped 
scar  beneath  the  left  temple ;  and  yet  beneath  its  gentle  ap- 
peal there  seemed  to  lie  latent  an  expression  of  sphinx-like 
inscrutability. 

Mrs.  Ledyard's  greeting  was  more  markedly  effusive  than 
usual.  There  followed  a  brief,  awkward  pause  which,  by  a 
common  impulse,  everyone  rushed  to  eliminate;  everyone 
except  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  She  stood  quietly  at  her  ease, 
listening,  nodding,  smiling  and  looking  about  her  from  one 
face  to  another  with  a  calm,  steady  gaze.  If  some  intuition 
warned  her  that  she  had  been  the  subject  of  discussion  she 
made  no  sign.  If,  in  the  glances  of  at  least  two  of  the  three 
men  who  had  been  her  champions,  she  divined  for  the  first 
time  a  shade  of  doubt,  of  questioning,  she  made  no  effort 
to  disarm  it.  She  turned  coolly  to  her  hostess  and  at  once 
drew  her  into  a  conversation  upon  her  pet  charity. 

Cornelius  Swarthmore  strolled  casually  over  to  the  two 
girls. 

"You're  coming  to  mother's  Red  Cross  dance  Thursday 
evening,  Neely?"  There  was  command  as  well  as  entreaty 
in  Trixy's  tones,  but  he  ignored  them  with  a  trace  of  im- 
patience. 

"You  know  how  I  loathe  that  sort  of  an  affair,  Trix. 
Jammed  to  the  doors  with  every  outsider  who  can  scare  up 
the  price  of  a  ticket  to  say  they  have  been  entertained  here ! 


8  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

I'll  try  to  wedge  my  way  through  the  crush  for  awhile,  but 
it's  bound  to  be  a  bore." 

"Not  with  that  wonderful  new  jazz  band  Mrs.  Ledyard 
has  engaged!"  Bebe  cried  enthusiastically.  "Vallory's, 
you  know.  She  had  a  frightful  time  getting  him,  for  he  is 
booked  literally  months  ahead.  He's  the  drummer  and 
practically  the  whole  show ;  plays  a  dozen  bing-bang  instru- 
ments at  once  1" 

"This  jazz  thing  is  being  worked  to  death."  As  if  aware 
of  his  rudeness,  Swarthmore  added  hastily:  "I  hear  that 
this  Vallory  is  a  wonder,  though.  I'm  sure  the  affair  will 
be  a  great  success  for  the  cause." 

"Whatever  is  the  matter  with  you  lately,  Neely?  Touch 
of  liver  or  just  plain  grouch?"  Bebe  eyed  him  critically  with 
her  golden  head  atilt.  Trixy  had  turned  away.  "You  used 
to  be  as  keen  as  the  proletariat  on  any  sort  of  an  affair 
gotten  up  by  Mrs.  Ledyard." 

"I'm  cutting  it  all  out,"  he  responded  evasively.  "Govern- 
ment contracts  won't  wait  while  a  man  plays  the  society 
game,  my  dear  Bebe." 

"O  patriotism !"  she  scoffed  lightly.  "What  delinquencies 
are  perpetrated  in  thy  name !" 

"Isn't  it  splendid?"  Mrs.  Ledyard  bore  down  upon 
them.  "Mrs.  Hartshorne  has  promised  to  come  to  the 
dance,  after  all." 

"How  nice!"  Bebe  exclaimed  sweetly.  "But  I  thought 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  quite  shunned  all  semi-public  functions. 
Now  of  course  we  may  count  on  you,  Neely?'* 

"Trixy,  my  child,  did  you  tell  Hickson  to  set  up  the 
bridge  table?"  Mrs.  Ledyard  turned  to  her  daughter, 
then  to  the  group  of  men  who  surrounded  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne. "Dr.  Perrine,  you  won't  frown  on  our  playing  a 
cent  a  point  if  half  the  winnings  goes  to  the  Canteen — ?" 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  ENIGMA  9 

"Shocking!"  Dr.  Perrine  was  obviously  deaf  to  his  hos- 
tess for  the  moment.  "Used  the  money  of  small  inves- 
tors, you  say?  Robbed  the  poor?" 

Wendle  Braddock  nodded,  smacking  his  lips  unctuously. 

"Converted  it.  He  was  President  of  the  Riverboro  bank. 
Speculated  and  lost,  Zenas  Prall  said  in  his  confession. 
Anyway,  he  went  to  Atlanta  four  years  ago  on  a  twenty- 
year  term.  They've  let  him  out  just  recently  on  a  plea 
of  ill-health." 

"Poor  devil!"  the  Colonel  commented.  "Pretty  tough  to 
go  straight  for  fifty  years  of  life  and  then  come  a  cropper, 
isn't  it?" 

"It  is  very  sad !"  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  lips  dropped  patheti- 
cally. "I  don't  remember  hearing  of  the  case;  it  must 
have  come  up  before  the  war,  when  I  was  abroad.  It  is 
tragic  for  the  poor  man,  of  course,  but  then  think  of  the 
small  investors,  the  pitifully  hoarded  savings  of  the  poor!" 

"You  have  lived  abroad,  then?"  Trixy  had  passed  her 
mother  swiftly ;  and  although  she  spoke  with  assumed  care- 
lessness there  was  a  note  of  inquisition  in  her  tones. 

"Yes.  I  have  connections  there."  It  seemed  for  an 
infinitesimal  second  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  faltered,  but  she 
offered  no  further  revelation. 

"That  is  curious !"  Trixy  smiled,  although  her  tawny  eyes 
narrowed.  "Somehow,  I  fancied  you  were  from  the  West." 

"I  have  relatives  scattered  throughout  that  part  of  the 
country,  whom  I  visited  occasionally  as  a  girl.  Perhaps  I 
have  acquired  some  of  their  idioms.  That  may  account 
for  your  impression,  Miss  Ledyard."  Then  catching  sight 
of  Hickson  in  the  doorway  bearing  the  bridge  table  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  turned  to  her  hostess  with  a  little  apologetic 
cry.  "Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  but  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  if 
I  don't  play  tonight.  I've  such  a  wretched  headache!  I 


io  THE  SECOND  BULLET, 

;    r 

really  only  stopped  in  for  a  moment  Id  drop  Mr.  Swarth- 
more  and  to  ask  you  to  excuse  me,  but  I've  been  so  inter- 
ested that  I  forgot  to  mention  it." 

"Then  stay  and  perhaps  your  headache  will  leave  you," 
the  Colonel  suggested  gallantly. 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  shook  her  head. 

"I  only  have  them  once  in  a  blue  moon,  but  when  they 
come  I  have  to  give  in  absolutely  to  them.  Every  hour 
that  I  fight  off  one  of  these  attacks  means  an  added  hour  of 
suffering.  I'm  so  very  sorry — "  she  held  out  her  hand  to 
Mrs.  Ledyard,  "but  then  I  do  want  to  feel  really  fit  on 
Thursday  night  for  your  dance." 

"Perhaps  you  will  permit  me  to  drive  you  to  your 
house?"  President  Braddock  suggested,  coming  forward. 
"I  don't  play  bridge,  you  know,  and  I  am  going  your  way. 
I  should  be  delighted — " 

"Excuse  me,  old  man,  but  I'm  taking  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
home,"  interrupted  Swarthmore  firmly.  "I  could  only  have 
played  one  rubber,  anyway,  for  there's  a  chap  from  Wash- 
ington getting  in  at  midnight  whom  I  have  to  meet  at  the 
train.  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  I  accompanied  you  from  the 
Gaylors ;  and  that  surely  establishes  a  prior  claim !" 

He  added  the  last  sentence  laughingly  but  with  a  signifi- 
cance which  brooked  no  refusal.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  made 
a  little  moue  of  consent. 

"I  feel  like  a  culprit,  breaking  up  your  game,  Mrs.  Led- 
yard," she  sighed.  "But  really " 

"My  dear,  it's  of  no  consequence,"  her  hostess  responded 
graciously.  "I  am  only  grieved  that  you  are  suffering.  I 
would  forego  any  mere  card  game  to  have  you  with  us 
Thursday.  However,  as  Mr.  Swarthmore  invariably  loses, 
I  think  it  is  only  fair  that  he  should  send  me  a  nice  check 
for  my  Canteen  Fund." 


THE  LADY  AND  THE  ENIGMA  11 

With  mock  chagrin  Swarthmore  promised  and  they  took 
their  leave.  In  the  limousine  his  manner  softened.  He 
turned  to  his  companion  with  a  quick  note  of  concern. 

"Why  didn't  you  mention  your  headache  to  me  ?  Was  it 
really  your  intention  to  rid  yourself  of  me  at  the  Ledyards'? 
You'll  find  I'm  not  to  be  dropped  so  easily !" 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  made  no  reply.  She  was  leaning  back 
against  the  cushions  and  her  face  was  in  shadow.  As  he 
bent  toward  her,  he  felt  her  form  tremble  convulsively. 

"Are  you  really  suffering  so  much?"  he  exclaimed,  with 
unmistakable  tenderness.  "Do  you  know,  I  fancied  it  was  a 
ruse  of  yours  to  get  away  from " 

He  paused  and  Mrs.  Hartshorne  suddenly  covered  her 
face  with  her  shaking  hands. 

"Oh,  don't  please  1"  The  cry  seemed  wrung  from  her. 
"Why  should  I  have  run  away  from  the  Ledyards?  I  am 
unnerved,  unstrung !  My  head — oh,  why  did  you  not  let  me 
go  alone?" 

"I'm  sorry."  He  drew  back  stiffly.  "It  was  purely 
selfish  on  my  part ;  I  wanted  to  be  with  you.  I  thought  Miss 
Ledyard  might  possibly  have  annoyed  you." 

Her  hands  dropped  and  she  laughed  hysterically. 

"Miss  Ledyard?"  she  repeated  with  a  scornful  bitterness 
which  came  strangely  from  her  gentle  lips.  "What  do  a 
hundred  Miss  Ledyards  matter?  Let  her  be  the  first  to  give 
tongue — " 

She  caught  herself  up  abruptly,  then  added  quietly: 

"Do  forgive  me.  I  scarcely  know  what  I  am  saying; 
this  pain  is  maddening!  Of  course  I — I  am  glad  that  you 
are  taking  me  home." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  and  Swarthmore  seized 
it,  quick  to  pursue  his  advantage- 

"Is  it  too  late  for  me  to  come  in  just  for  a  moment? 


12  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

I  will  not  be  a  selfish  brute  and  keep  you  from  your  rest, 
but  you  are  such  an  illusive  person,  and  there  is  something 
I  want  to  tell  you — " 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  gently  withdrew  her  hand. 

"Not  now,  I — I  could  not  listen.    I  am  really  ill." 

"Then  to-morrow?"  he  urged.  "Surely  you  will  be  better? 
I  do  not  mean  to  be  importunate,  but  I  have  waited 
so  long !  I  may  come  to-morrow  ?" 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  bowed  her  head  and  a  little  smile,  hidden 
in  shadow,  played  about  her  lips. 

"To-morrow." 

Back  in  the  Ledyards'  drawing-room  Trixy,  too,  was 
smiling,  but  in  triumph. 

"You  heard,  all  of  you!  That  headache  didn't  manifest 
itself  until  I  began  questioning  her." 

"Trixy,  I  am  astounded!"  her  mother  exclaimed.  "You 
were  abominably  rude.  Not  so  much  in  what  you  said — 
but  your  manner!  I'm  afraid  you  have  offended  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  deeply." 

"What  if  I  have?"  the  younger  woman  retorted  cooly. 
"Her  friendship  or  enmity  is  nothing  to  me." 

"Dear  me !  This  is  all  very  distressing !"  murmured  Dr. 
Perrine. 

"Distressing?  It  is  preposterous!"  President  Braddock 
blustered.  "Mrs.  Hartshorne  is  absolutely  above  criticism." 

"So  are  all  of  us!"  Bebe  laughed.  "But  it  reaches  us, 
sooner  or  later.  It  is  a  scandalous  world,  isn't  it,  Colonel 
Ledyard?" 

The  Colonel  had  been  silent,  but  on  his  usually  genial 
brow  a  slight  frown  had  gathered. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  responded  reflectively.  "The  woodpile 
looks  innocent  enough,  but  what  if  there  were  a  little  negro 
in  it,  somewhere,  after  all?" 


Chapter  II. 
WOMAN  DISPOSES. 

IT  was  nearly  noon  when  Miss  Rose  Adare  mounted  the 
steps  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  small  but  perfectly  ap- 
pointed house  and  rang  the  bell. 

She  was  a  slender,  vivacious  young  person,  of  the  black- 
haired,  blue-eyed,  fair-skinned  type  which  betokens  Hiber- 
nian ancestry  of  the  higher  order.  The  tilt  of  her  small, 
tantalizing  nose  and  the  curve  of  her  scarlet,  delicately 
molded  lips  suggested  a  sense  of  humor  balanced  by  the 
square  little  chin  and  cool  level  gaze. 

She  frowned  as  she  waited,  tapping  her  foot  impatiently. 
At  length  a  trim  housemaid  opened  the  door. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Miss  Adare.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  hasn't  been 
feeling  very  well.  Matilde  is  with  her  now,  and  she  is 
better.  You  can  go  straight  up." 

With  a  nod,  Miss  Adare  availed  herself  of  the  permission. 
Running  up  the  stairs,  she  knocked  lightly  upon  her  client's 
door. 

Matilde,  a  thin,  sallow  Frenchwoman,  admitted  her  and 
gestured  unsmilingly  toward  the  bed.  The  girl  approached 
and  a  little  exclamation  of  shocked  surprise  broke  from  her 
lips. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Hartshorne!  What  is  the  matter?  Jenny 
told  me  you  had  been  unwell,  but  were  better.  I  didn't 
dream  you  were  as  ill  as  this !" 

With  an  effort  Mrs.  Hartshorne  drew  herself  up  among 

13 


i4  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

her  pillows.  Her  face  was  drawn  and  haggard,  her  eyes 
deeply  sunken.  In  each  wan  cheek  a  brilliant  red  spot 
burned. 

"Good  morning,  Rose.  Do  I  look  such  a  fright?  It  is 
just  one  of  my  old  neuralgic  headaches.  The  handglass, 
please,  Matilde." 

The  maid  brought  it  without  a  word.  Her  mistress  after 
one  glance  dropped  it  upon  the  bed  beside  her  with  a  horri- 
fied gasp. 

"Heavens !    I  don't  wonder !" 

"Perhaps  you  won't  need  me  today — ?"   Rose  ventured. 

"Oh,  but  I  do!    I  wanted  to  look  particularly  nice,  and 

I  must  manage  to  pull  myself  together,  somehow.     I  have 

heaps  of  correspondence  to  be  answered."    Mrs.  Hartshorne 

turned  to  her  maid.    "You  may  go,  Matilde." 

When  the  door  had  closed,  she  leaned  forward  eagerly. 
"Rose,  you  are  such  a  marvellously  clever  little  social 
secretary — I  wonder  if  you  can  help  me  with  a  bit  of  per- 
sonal advice.  I  am  a  nervous  wreck  and  I  know  it !  Too 
many  late  hours  and  social  activities ;  I  never  could  endure 
them.  I  look  ghastly,  hideous,  and  yet  this  afternoon  I 
must  be  fresh  and  blooming.  Can  you  tell  me  how  to  work 
a  miracle  ?" 

"If  you'll  forgive  me  for  the  suggestion,  I  would  try  a 
little  rouge,  Mrs.  Hartshorne,"  Rose  responded  frankly. 
"You  never  would  before,  but  no  massage  in  the  world  will 
bring  the  right  color  now,  or  the  blood  to  your  lips." 

"Very  well."  Mrs.  Hartshorne  sank  back  with  a  sigh. 
"I  suppose  I  must  .  .  .  Now  let  us  get  on  with  the  notes. 
They  are  mostly  invitations — to  be  declined,  as  usual.  You 
will  know  how  to  do  it  gracefully,  without  dictation." 

The  girl  smiled  and  turned  to  the  small  stand  beside  the 
bed. 


WOMAN  DISPOSES  15 

"You  can  trust  me  for  that.  Now,  I'll  just  move  these 
magazines  to  make  room  for  my  stationery  and  things — 
good  gracious!" 

As  she  swept  the  papers  from  the  table  an  ugly  blunt- 
nosed  revolver  of  the  "bull-dog"  type  stared  wickedly  up  at 
her  startled  eyes. 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  reached  out  in  haste  and  picking  up  the 
small  weapon  thrust  it  carelessly  beneath  her  pillow. 

"Did  it  frighten  you?"  she  laughed.  "It  isn't  loaded. 
I'm  so  reckless  about  leaving  jewels  and  money  about  the 
house  that  I  keep  it  to  scare  away  possible  burglars.  Do 
let  us  get  the  correspondence  over  with." 

The  laugh  had  not  sounded  quite  natural  to  the  girl's 
alert  ears,  but  the  excuse  seemed  plausible  enough  and  she 
commenced  her  rapid  sorting  of  the  mail  without  further 
remark, 

During  the  light  scratching  of  the  pen  on  paper,  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  lay  spent  and  inert ;  but  when  the  first  batch  of 
notes  was  completed  she  asked  suddenly : 

"Rose,  has  anyone  been  asking  you  questions  about  me? 
Any  of  your  other  clients,  I  mean ;  the  women  in  my  own 
set?  I'm  rather  curious  1" 

Rose  paused,  an  unopened  envelope  in  her  hands. 

"About  you,  Mrs.  Hartshorne?  How  could  they?  The 
most  any  woman  asks  me  about  another  is  whether  she 
evades  her  tradesmen's  bills  or  receives  many  love  letters. 
And  anybody  could  see  with  half  an  eye " 

"I  don't  mean  that.  I  came  here  a  stranger,  you  know, 
and  people  are  usually  so  inquisitive."  Her  eyes  carefully 
avoided  those  of  the  girl. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  Rose  replied.  "When  I  began  this 
work  as  visiting  social  secretary  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
nobody  would  get  any  information  from  me  about  any 


16  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

clients.  Not  that  there's  usually  anything  worth  while  re- 
peating, but  you  know  how  little  things  can  be  twisted  and 
turned  and  made  to  look  like  something  entirely  different. 
Attending  to  social  correspondence  is  my  business,  not 
tattling." 

A  discreet  knock  at  the  door  punctuated  her  peroration 
and  Matilde  entered  with  a  huge,  ornate  florist's  box  from 
the  end  of  which  protruded  long  spiky  stems.  She  handed 
her  mistress  a  note. 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  tore  it  open  and  read : 

Dear  Lady: 

I  trust  that  your  indisposition  has  passed  and  you  are 
your  own  happy,  charming  self  again.  May  these  few 
roses  brighen  and  hasten  your  convalescence  !  I  wonder 
if  you  will  -do  me  the  honor  of  dining  with  me  tonight 
at  the  Grosvenor?  My  messenger  will  await  your 
reply. 

Yours  faithfully, 

WENDLE  BRADDOCK. 

She  gave  an  amused  glance  at  the  box  which  Matilde  had 
opened;  the  ponderous,  florid  roses  were  not  unlike  their 
giver.  Then  she  pursed  her  lips  thoughtfully. 

The  Grosvenor  was  the  most  exclusive  restaurant  in  the 
city,  and  Wendle  Braddock  had  not  been  known  to  dine 
in  public  tete-a-tete  with  a  woman  since  he  had  attained 
years  and  prominence.  What  could  this  invitation  por- 
tend? 

"Take  them  out,  Matilde," — she  pointed  to  the  opulent 
roses — "and  put  them — no,  ask  Jenny  to  cut  the  stems  short 
and  place  them  in  a  low  glass  bowl  in  the  dining-room. 
Now,  Rose,  lend  me  your  pen,  please!  I  must  write  this 
note  myself." 


WOMAN  DISPOSES  17 

Matilde  complied  and  her  mistress  wrote  a  few  lines 
rapidly  and  sealed  them. 

"Please  give  this  to  the  messenger-    That  is  all." 

She  seemed  disinclined  for  further  conversation.  Rose 
completed  the  last  of  the  morning's  correspondence  in 
silence.  Then  she  handed  Mrs.  Hartshorne  the  little  pile 
of  notes. 

"These  are  all,  I  think.  Please  tell  me  if  they  are  all 
right?" 

But  Mrs.  Hartshorne  waved  them  away. 

"You  can  always  be  depended  upon  to  write  the  proper 
thing,  my  dear.  Now  I  shall  dress  and  try  a  little  rouge, 
as  you  advise.  Perhaps  then  no  one  will  guess  that  all 
last  night —  "  she  broke  off,  shuddering,  with  an  inadver- 
tent glance  toward  the  window. 

The  girl's  eyes  folowed  hers.  But  all  she  could  see  was 
the  sedate  rear  wall  of  the  neighbor's  house,  across  a 
narrow  strip  of  gardens,  fresh  in  the  tender  green  of  early 
spring. 

At  that  moment  Matilde  entered  again,  and  once  more 
she  bore  a  florist's  box ;  but  this  one  was  slim  and  dazzlingly 
white.  When  she  opened  it  a  loose  mass  of  fragrant,  deli- 
cate spring  blossoms  fell  out  upon  the  bed  as  if  freshly 
culled  from  some  old-fashioned  garden. 

The  card  which  accompanied  them  was  Cornelius  Swarth- 
more's.  The  message  it  bore  was  a  simple  one. 

I  send  these  because  they  are  like  you.     Until  this 
afternoon. 

"Madame  will  have  these — ?"  The  tactiurn  maid  spoke 
for  the  first  time,  and  although  her  tone  was  respectful 
enough  it  was  curiously  level  and  repressed. 

"In  the  drawing-room,  Matilde."  A  smile  of  com- 
placency, almost  of  derision  crossed  the  pale  lips  of  Mrs. 


i8  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

Hartshorne,  and  she  added  as  the  maid  departed:  "That 
is  all  for  to-day,  Rose.  Pray  that  I  shall  look  well  this 
afternoon  1" 

It  was  indeed  a  radiant  young  woman  who  entered  the 
drawing-room  at  twilight  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Swarth- 
more.  The  deftly  darkened  lashes  lent  an  added  brilliancy 
to  her  eyes  and  her  serene,  delicately  flushed  face  bore  no 
traces  of  the  drawn  haggardness  of  the  morning. 

"You  look  wonderfully  well !"  Cornelius  Swarthmore  ex- 
claimed as  he  straightened  after  pressing  his  lips  to  her 
hand.  "But  then  you  always  do,  to  me.  By  Jove,  I  believe 
that  headache  of  yours  was  a  ruse,  after  all !" 

"No  really !"  Mrs.  Hartshorne  protested  as  she  motioned 
him  to  a  chair  and  seated  herself  on  the  couch  with 
her  back  to  the  rose-shaded  lamp.  "It  has  quite  gone  now, 
however.  Thank  you  for  your  lovely  flowers,  but  I'm  afraid 
they're  not  a  bit  like  me,  although  I  love  them.  They  be- 
long in  some  quaint  old  garden  where  their  ancestors  have 
been  rooted  for  generations,  and  I — I  belong  in  far  corners 
of  the  earth." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked  in  quick  concern. 

She  shrugged. 

"I  am  a  born  nomad,  I  fear;  a  wanderer.  I  try  to 
settle  down,  to  fasten  myself  to  a  place  by  bonds  of  friend- 
ship and  financial  responsibility,  and  then  the  call  of  the 
wanderlust  comes  and  I  must  answer." 

"That  is  foolish !"  he  smiled  indulgently.  "You  are  dis- 
satisfied because  you  are  so  much  alone." 

"I  detest  huge  public  affairs-  I  am  only  going  to  the 
Red  Cross  dance  tomorrow  night  because  Mrs.  Ledyard 
has  been  so  kind  and  I  do  not  wish  to  disappoint  her." 

"I  don't  mean  that,"  Swarthmore  countered  swiftly.  "But 


WOMAN  DISPOSES  19 

you  are  not  the  type  of  woman  to  lead  a  solitary  existence. 
You  need  a  warm,  human  interest,  protection,  love " 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  shook  her  head,  smiling  a  trifle  sadly. 

"But  suppose  I  tried  that  and  it  failed  to  hold  me? 
Suppose  the  desire  for  new  scenes  came  upon  me  again? 
No,  it  is  woman  as  well  as  man,  who  travels  fastest  when 
she  travels  alone.  I  am  restless  even  now ;  my  nerves 
are  on  edge.  I  think  I  shall  go  away  very  soon." 

"A  woman  alone;  a  woman  like  you!"  Swarthmore  rose 
and  seated  himself  beside  her.  "Do  you  think,  if  you 
married  a  man  with  red  blood  in  his  veins,  a  man  who  loved 
you,  that  he  could  not  hold  you?  Ah,  my  dear,  why  will 
you  talk  of  going  away?  You  know  what  I  came  here  to 
tell  you  this  afternoon,  you  mu>t  have  known  it  for  weeks ! 
It  seemed  to  me  that  you  were  purposely  holding  me  off." 

"You  mustn't,  please!"  Mrs.  Hartshorne  put  both  hands 
out  protestingly.  But  he  seized  them  and  drew  her  close. 

"I  must!  You  are  so  quiet  and  gentle  and  mouselike — 
and  yet  there  is  something  about  you  that  drives  a  man 
mad!  Shall  I  make  a  confession?  At  first  I  considered 
you  merely  a  sweet,  pleasingly  attractive  little  woman; 
then,  I  don't  know  why,  my  eyes  began  to  follow  you — and 
my  thoughts!  I  looked  for  you  everywhere  and  felt  dis- 
appointed and  savage  if  you  were  not  there.  And  when  you 
were,  it  was  like  a  draught  of  champagne !  I  began  seek- 
ing you  out,  confiding  in  you,  telling  you  my  secret  plans 
as  I  have  told  them  to  no  one  else  on  earth !" 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  free  her- 
self. 

"You  mean  the  government  contracts?  The  padded  bids 
and  the  undergrade  stuff?  But  there  was  no  harm  in  that, 
nothing  exactly  illegal.  You  told  me  so  yourself;  you  said 
that  everybody  was  doing  it  and  you  might  as  well  get  your 


20  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

share  of  the  profits-  Why  should  you  not  have  told  me  ?  I 
was  proud  of  your  confidence !" 

A  dull  flush  had  mounted  to  Swarthmore's  brow  and  his 
voice  grew  swiftly  hoarse. 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  about  that  now;  I'm  trying  to 
show  you  what  you  mean  to  me.  There've  been  other 
women,  of  course.  Women  who  amused  me  for  an  hour 
and  others  whom  I  thought  would  look  well  at  the  head  of 
my  household,  but  none  who  combined  every  attribute  in 
themselves  as  you  do !  You  drew  me  to  you,  held  me  as  I 
am  holding  your  hands  now." 

"You  are  hurting  me !"  she  murmured  plaintively.  "And 
Jenny  is  coming  with  the  tea !" 

He  released  her ;  and  rising,  walked  to  the  window  where 
he  stood  for  a  moment  staring  out  into  the  fast-gathering 
darkness. 

"What  an  enigma  you  are!"  he  remarked  at  length.  "I 
wonder  sometimes  if  you  know  your  power  and  use  it  with 
consummate  art,  or  whether  you  are  utterly  unconscious  of 
the  effect  you  have  upon  men.  We  are  all  your  slaves — 
even  that  doddering,  smug-faced  old  rascal  Braddock." 

"Don't  call  him  that!"  she  remonstrated  sweetly.  "I 
like  him,  he's  so  nice  and  fatherly.  And  besides,  he's 
dining  here  to-night." 

"Is  he?"  Swarthmore  turned  upon  her,  his  eyes  smolder- 
ing. 

"Yes.  He  asked  me  to  dine  at  the  Grosvenor  with  him, 
but  I  did  not  feel  quite  up  to  going  out,  so  I  invited  him 
here  instead." 

"Why  ?"  he  demanded  savagely.  "You  are  not  the  empty- 
headed  sort  to  want  scalps  to  dangle  at  your  belt !" 

"He  is  coming  to  talk  over  my  business  affairs  with  me." 
Her  eyes  opened  wide.  "He  advises  me,  you  know," 


WOMAN  DISPOSES  21 

"He's  put  a  few  spokes  in  my  wheels,  senile  as  he  is,  but 
I've  always  managed  to  knock  them  out  in  time."  Swarth- 
more  muttered.  "Don't  you  know  that  he  is  using  your 
affairs  as  a  mere  excuse?  That  he's  infatuated  with  you? 
Call  him  up  and  tell  him  you  are  too  ill  to  see  him,  and  then 
come  and  dine  with  me  somewhere!  I  won't  leave  you 
until  I've  made  you  listen  to  me,  until  I've  convinced  you 
that  your  happiness  lies  in  my  hands !" 

The  entrance  of  Jenny  with  the  tea  brought  the  con- 
versation to  a  less  emotional  pitch  and  for  a  time  they 
chatted  of  mere  social  affairs,  but  when  they  were  alone 
together  once  more  Swarthmore  moved  determinedly  to  her 
side. 

"Why  should  we  talk  about  these  other  people?  What 
do  they  matter  ?  The  only  thing  that  counts  in  all  the  world 
is  that  I  love  you !  I  want  to  make  you  my  wife !" 

"How  like  a  man !"  she  smiled.  "You  are  very  confident, 
Mr.  Swarthmore !  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  could  hold 
me?  What  if  the  old  gypsy  longing  came  back  and  I  wanted 
to  go " 

"I  would  take  you,"  he  interrupted,  "anywhere  in  the 
world!  Out  of  the  way  places  where  you  could  never  ven- 
ture without  a  protector !  You  are  searching  for  happiness ; 
I'll  give  it  to  you." 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  sighed. 

"How  can  you  know  me,  when  I  don't  know  myself?" 
she  asked  softly.  "I  might  let  you  persuade  me — you  are 
very  masterful  and  compelling,  you  know — I  might  feel 
quite  sure  that  you  could  really  do  all  that  you  protest 
and  make  me  happy.  And  then  my  mood  might  change 
and  I  would  feel  tempted  to  run  away  from  it  all — a  formal 
engagement,  and  everybody's  congratulations  and  silly 
dinners — even  from  you!" 


22  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Will  you  marry  me  now,  to-night?"  he  cried  eagerly. 
"I'm  not  afraid  of  your  moods  once  you  belong  to  me. 
We'll  cut  out  all  the  formal  business  and  just  run  away 
as  you  wanted  to,  only  we  will  go  together.  Will  you, 
dear?" 

But  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  not  even  heard.  She  was 
staring  past  him  at  the  black  expanse  of  the  window  where 
he  had  left  the  curtain  drawn  back.  Her  eyes  were  dark 
with  terror  and  her  face  ghastly,  so  that  the  rouge  stood 
out  in  blotches  on  her  cheeks- 

As  Swarthmore  uttered  a  startled  exclamation  she  gasped, 
and  one  hand  flew  to  her  breast,  where  her  gown  sagged 
oddly  as  if  borne  down  by  some  unaccustomed  weight. 

"What  is  it?"  Swarthmore  leaped  to  his  feet.  "What  is 
the  matter?  You  are  ill !" 

"A  face!"  she  whispered  hoarsely.  "A  face  at  the 
window !" 

He  turned  and  flung  the  sash  high.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  the  quiet  deserted  street  slumbering  in  the  warm 
fragrant  dusk. 

"What  sort  of  a  face  was  it?"  he  asked  closing  the 
window  and  returning  to  her  side.  "There  isn't  a  soul  out 
there." 

"I  don't  know.  A  horrible,  malign  face  like  that  of  a 
beast !  A  thief,  perhaps !  Oh,  I  am  afraid,  afraid !" 

"But  why  should  you  be?"  he  bent  low  above  her. 
"Burglaries  are  infrequent  in  this  part  of  town;  it  is  too 
well  lighted  and  policed.  Poor  little  woman,  who  wants 
to  trot  off  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  and  yet  is  afraid  in  her 
own  home !" 

"But  I — I  have  several  thousand  dollars  in  cash  in  the 
house.  I  always  do,  it  is  an  idiosyncrasy  of  mine.  Some 
one  may  have  known  of  it,  I  tell  you!"  Her  voice  was 


WOMAN  DISPOSES  23 

rising  with  a  sharp  note  of  hysteria.  "Oh,  I  have  reason 
to  be  afraid !" 

Somehow  she  found  herself  all  at  once  in  Swarthmore's 
arms,  laughing  and  crying  and  clinging  to  him  convulsively. 
He  held  her  close,  murmuring  soothingly  until  her  hysteria 
had  subsided.  Then  he  lifted  her  head  and  pressed  his  lips 
to  hers. 

"You  shall  marry  me,  sweetheart!  We  will  go  away 
quietly  if  that  is  what  you  wish.  No  one  need  know.  You 
are  nervous,  unstrung!  You  need  someone  to  take  care  of 
you  and  shield  you  even  from  the  things  you  imagine !  Tell 
me  that  you  will !" 

Her  fingers  tightened  like  slim  bands  of  steel  upon  his 
arms  and  a  shudder  swept  over  her-  Then  she  forced  her- 
self resolutely  to  calmness. 

"I  will  marry  you,  Neely." 

"When?    To-night?"  he  cried  joyously. 

"No,  not  to-night,  but  soon,  within  a  few  days."  A  little 
natural  color  had  flooded  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  glittered. 
"Only  you  must  promise  to  keep  it  absolutely  a  secret  until 
— until  it  is  over.  You  know  how  I  shrink  from  publicity ; 
I  could  never  endure  the  congratulations  and  all  the  fuss 
and  bother !" 

"You  won't  have  to,  dear !"  Swarthmore  paused  and  then 
added,  with  an  embarrassed  laugh.  "Do  you  know,  I'm 
going  to  marry  the  loveliest  little  woman  in  all  the  world ; 
— and  I  don't  even  know  her  name  ?" 

"My  name?"  she  exclaimed.    "Why,  'Allie',  of  course!" 

"'Allie'?"  Swarthmore  repeated.  "For  'Allison'?  I 
thought  that  was " 

"My  husband's  name,"  she  supplemented  as  he  hesitated. 
"So  it  was,  but  mine  is  'Alice'." 

"And  how  it  suits  you!"  he  cried  rapturously.     "Alice! 


24  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

You  said  you  would  marry  me  in  a  few  days,  but  when? 
You  have  warned  me — your  mood  may  change,  you  know ! 
I'm  not  going  to  let  you  get  away  from  me,  I  warn  you,  in 
turn.  The  motto  of  the  Swarthmore  family  centuries  ago 
in  England  was :  'What  I  ivant,  I  take.  What  I  have  none 
shall  take  from  me!  I  have  you  now  and  I  don't  mean  to 
lose  you,  Alice !  What  day  will  you  marry  me,  dear  ?" 

She  glanced  up  at  him  and  then  lowered  her  eyes  swiftly. 
It  might  have  been  in  modesty  or  to  hide  a  certain  gleam 
which  had  crept  unbidden  into  them. 

"I  will  tell  you  to-morrow  night,"  she  murmured.  "At 
the  Red  Cross  dance." 


Chapter  III. 
WHAT  THE  DAWN  BROUGHT. 

THE  Ledyard  dance  was  an  overwhelming  success. 
Everyone  admitted  it,  from  Hickson  who  had  stood 
at  the  door  with  an  expression  of  scandalized 
martyrdom  and  collected  the  purchased  tickets  of  admission, 
to  the  Red  Cross  treasurer  who  ultimately  received  the 
hostess'  check.  The  exclusive  coterie  which  made  up  the 
smart  set  of  Eastopolis  mingled  for  once  in  amused  toler- 
ance with  the  opulent  but  unelect  which  packed  the  Ledyard 
residence  to  the  doors.  Vallory's  jazz  band  fairly  surpassed 
itself  in  blare  and  din  and  eccentric  antics,  the  floral  decora- 
tions were  superb  and  the  supper  worthy  of  a  Savarin. 
But  for  that  which  followed  so  closely  upon  it,  the  func- 
tion would  have  been  the  most  talked-of  event  of  the  year. 

Bebe  Cowles,  who  had  been  an  overnight  guest  of  the 
Ledyards',  rose  somewhat  languidly  shortly  before  noon  on 
the  following  day  and  gathering  the  draperies  of  her  negli- 
gee about  her,  made  her  way  to  Trixy's  room.  Repeated 
tapping  brought  no  response  and  at  length  she  uncere- 
moniously opened  the  door  and  entered. 

The  heavy  curtains  were  still  drawn  to  shut  out  the 
brilliant  spring  sunshine,  but  in  the  semi-obscurity  she 
discerned  the  white  expanse  of  the  bed  with  Trixy  lying 
inertly  among  her  pillows. 

"I've  been  knocking  for  ever  so  long!  Didn't  you  hear 
me?"  Bebe  asked  in  an  injured  tone.  Then,  perceiving 

25 


26  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

an  untouched  breakfast  tray  on  the  stand  she  added :  "What 
is  the  matter?    Don't  you  feel  well,  dear?" 

The  girl  in  the  bed  neither  spoke  nor  moved  save  that  her 
eyes  turned  slowly  to  her  visitor,  but  there  was  no  sign  of 
recognition  in  them. 

"Trixy!  What  is  it!  Speak  to  me!"  Bebe  almost 
shrieked.  "Trixy,  for  heaven's  sake !" 

A  shudder  swept  the  recumbent  figure. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Bebe !"  she  said  faintly.  "I — I  must  have 
been  dozing." 

"Did  you  have  a  bad  night?"  asked  the  other,  perching 
herself  at  the  bed's  foot  and  cuddling  down  into  the  silken 
coverlet.  Without  waiting  for  a  reply  she  went  on:  "It 
wouldn't  surprise  me  if  you  had,  after  all  the  champagne 
you  drank  at  supper !  You  so  seldom  touch  it,  and  yet  last 
night  I  saw  you  take  glass  after  glass.  It  didn't  affect  you 
in  the  least,  I'll  say  that  for  you,  dear,  but  I  was  sure 
you'd  have  a  frightful  head  this  morning." 

"Yes,  that  must  be  it,  of  course ;  the  champagne !"  Trixy 
spoke  almost  eagerly.  "Rather  disgraceful,  isn't  it?  And 
yet  do  you  know  I  wasn't  conscious  of  what  I  was  drinking; 
I  felt  parched  with  thirst  and  it  was  iced  and  pleasant.  But 
where  are  the  papers?  Do  ring  for  them  Bebe." 

"I've  been  yawning  over  them  in  my  room."  Bebe  un- 
curled herself  reluctantly.  "They've  given  the  affair  a 
write-up  like  the  opening  of  the  opera  season." 

"There  is  nothing — nothing  else?"  Trixy's  face  was 
averted  as  she  spoke. 

"Nothing  but  the  after-the-war  political  stuff.  What 
should  there  be?" 

"Then  never  mind ;  I  don't  want  to  see  them,"  she  hesi- 
tated. "I  fancied  there  might  have  been  a  flurry  in  stocks. 
Father  has  seemed  worried  lately." 


WHAT  THE  DAWN  BROUGHT  27' 

"The  market  is  steady  enough.  You'd  better  believe  I 
looked  at  it  first  of  all!  If  the  bottom  falls  out  of  it, 
away  goes  little  Bebe's  alimony,"  observed  that  young 
person  coolly.  Then  her  volatile  thoughts  reverting  to  the 
previous  evening,  she  exclaimed:  "Wasn't  the  jazz  band 
wonderful?" 

"It  was  atrocious  1"  Trixy  shuddered.  "It  seems  as 
though  I  should  never  get  the  sound  of  it  out  of  my  ears  1" 

"It  was  a  bit  noisy.  But  that  leader,  Vallory  himself! 
He  seemed  to  play  twenty  things  at  once  besides  the  big 
drum,  and  each  of  them  made  a  different  slam-bang  racket. 
His  hands  simply  flew!" 

"I  didn't  notice  him  particularly." 

"Well,  I  did,  because  in  the  midst  of  his  craziest  antics 
that  melancholy  expression  of  his  never  changed.  It's  a 
pose,  of  course,  but  it  made  me  think  somehow  of  Pagliacci. 
However,  Trixy,  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so,  I  think 
your  mother  used  poor  judgment  in  stationing  the  band 
so  near  the  conservatory.  People  can't  carry  on  a  satisfac- 
tory flirtation  in  pantomime,  and  you  couldn't  hear  your- 
self think  in  there !" 

"But  you  know  what  a  crush  it  was;  mother  wanted  to 
leave  as  much  space  as  possible  for  the  dancing."  Trixy 
spoke  with  an  obvious  effort.  "What  was  that?" 

"What?" 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  noise  out  in  the  street."  Trixy 
sank  back  again  into  her  pillows. 

"Your  nerves,  darling,"  Bebe  assured  her  comfortably. 
"But  what  do  you  suppose  happened  to  the  conservatory 
door  last  night?  Freddie  Gaylor  and  I  tried  to  get  in  there 
after  supper,  but  the  door  wouldn't  budge.  Did  it  stick  or 
did  your  father  lock  his  precious  orchids  away  from  the 
common  herd  ?" 


28  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Oh,  it  stuck,  I  fancy,"  responded  the  other  carelessly. 
"The  key  has  been  lost  for  ages." 

"Mrs.  Hartshorne  looked  stunning,  didn't  she?"  Bebe 
chattered  on.  "When  she  decided  at  last  to  emerge  from 
her  shell,  she  burst  forth  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  I'll  say  that 
much  for  her.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  ravishing  string  of 
pearls?  It's  funny  she  never  exhibited  them  before." 

She  paused  as  if  for  encouragement  but  none  being 
vouchsafed  her,  she  asked  suddenly: 

"Where  was  she  at  supper,  by  the  way?  I  don't  remem- 
ber seeing  her  then  or  afterwards.  When  did  she  go?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  me?"  The  cry  seemed  wrung  from 
Trixy  at  last  by  her  tortured  nerves.  "Why  do  you  keep 
harping  on  her?  I've  endured  all  I  can,  Bebe!  Don't 
dare  speak  of  her  to  me  again !" 

"Good  heavens,  Trixy,  you  look  savage  enough  to  kill 
her " 

"A-ah!"  Trixy  covered  her  lips  as  if  to  stifle  the  sound 
which  issued  from  them. 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  feel  that  way,  I  suppose  I  had  best 
go  back  to  my  own  room!"  Bebe  shrugged.  "I'm  going  to 
tell  you  one  thing,  though,  for  your  own  good ;  you're  show- 
ing your  hand  too  plainly.  If  we  hadn't  played  around 
together  since  we  were  babies  I  wouldn't  speak,  but  I  hate 
to  see  you  making  a  fool  of  yourself !  Goodness  knows 
we've  no  secrets  from  each  other.  I  told  you  when  I  first 
fell  in  love  with  Hamilton  and  you  were  my  maid  of 
honor  at  the  wedding.  And  you  knew  all  about  how  happy 
I  was  then  and  how  wretched  he  made  me  later!  Don't 
you  suppose  I  realize  how  you  feel  about  Neely  Swarth- 
more?  The  point  is,  there's  no  reason  why  the  whole 
world  should  know  that  he  jilted  you  for " 

"Bebe,  will  you  go  away,  please?"     Trixy  sat  up  with 


39 

sudden  strength,  her  tawny  eyes  flashing.  "Will  you  leave 
me  to  myself  for  a  while?  I  told  you  I  could  not  endure 
any  more!" 

"Of  course  I'll  go!"  Bebe  sprang  up,  offended.  "Only 
others  beside  myself  may  have  observed  you  last  night  when 
you  two  met  face  to  face  in  the  hall." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  other  demanded. 

"I  was  sitting  out  a  dance  on  the  stairs  with  Freddie 
when  Neely  fairly  rushed  from  the  ballroom,  with  a  per- 
fectly fiendish  expression  on  his  face,  and  started  like  a 
mad  bull  to  jam  his  way  through  the  crush  to  the  cloak- 
room. It  must  have  been  about  half -past  eleven,  for  we 
had  two  dances  more  before  supper,  I  remember.  Neely 
came  face  to  face  with  you  and  shouldered  his  way  past 
without  a  word.  You  laid  your  hand  on  his  arm,  but  he 
shook  it  off  as  though  he  didn't  recognize  you — wasn't 
even  conscious  of  your  existence.  You  turned  and  stood 
looking  after  him,  and  one  glimpse  of  your  face  just  then 
would  have  given  away  the  whole  situation  to  anyone  who 
wasn't  quite  blind !"  Bebe  paused,  and  then  added :  "You 
used  to  be  so  proud  that  I  hate  to  see  you  humble  yourself 
before  any  man,  least  of  all  Neely — after  the  way  he  has 
treated  you!  You'll  have  your  chance  for  revenge,  of 
course,  but  you  haven't  spunk  enough  to  take  it,  because 
you  care  too  much.  He'll  come  crawling  back  to  you  soon, 
never  fear!" 

"How  do  you  know  ?"  Trixy's  tone  was  steady  and  oddly 
repressed.  "What  makes  you  say  that,  Bebe  ?  Why  should 
he  come  back  now  ?" 

"Never  mind  what  I  know !"  Bebe  stuck  out  her  little 
chin  obstinately.  "Everybody  thinks  Fm  a  chatterbox,  but  I 
know  enough  to  keep  out  of  mischief  by  holding  my  tongue 
once  in  a  while!  He'll  come  back,  but  oh!  Trixy,  don't 


30  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

take  him  on  again!  I  married  a  handsome  rotter  and  I 
know  what  I  went  through!  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  you 
suffer  that  and  worse  than  that  when  the  truth  is  out." 

"What  truth!"  Trixy  was  white  to  the  lips.  "I  don't 
know  what  you  are  keeping  from  me,  but  this  I  do  know ; 
if  Neely  Swarthmore  ever  dared  to — to  make  love  to  me 
again,  if  he  ever  dared  even  to  approach  me,  I  think  I  should 
die  of  disgust  and  horror  and  loathing!  I  don't  want  're- 
venge', as  you  call  it;  I  only  want  to  forget  that  he  ever 
lived!  You  are  right.  I  have  been  a  blind  fool,  but  my 
eyes  are  opened  now.  Care  for  him?  From  the  depths 
of  my  soul  I  abhor  him !" 

Weeping  hysterically,  she  flung  herself  back  upon  her 
pillows  and  Bebe,  her  own  resentment  forgotten,  had  all 
she  could  do  to  comfort  her. 

At  that  moment  Rose  Adare  was  mounting  the  steps  of 
Mrs.  Hartshorne's  pretty  little  house.  She  rang,  and  this 
time  there  was  no  delay ;  her  hand  was  scarcely  off  the  bell 
when  the  door  flew  open  and  Matilde,  the  usually  taciturn 
Frenchwoman,  stood  before  her. 

The  maid's  sallow  face  was  even  more  pale  than  was  its 
wont,  but  her  eyes  glittered  with  suppressed  excitement  and 
her  bosom  rose  and  fell  rapidly  with  her  panting  breath. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  you,  Mademoiselle  Adare! 
You  are  late!"  She  drew  the  wondering  girl  within  and 
closed  the  door  softly. 

"I  had  another  appointment  and  I  thought  it  wouldn't 
matter;  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  would  probably  sleep  late 
after  the  dance.  That  is  why  I  didn't  telephone;  I  was 
afraid  of  disturbing  her." 

"Come  up  now,  if  you  please."  Matilde  turned  and  led 
the  way  to  the  staircase  and  Rose  followed,  puzzled  by  the 
woman's  manner  no  less  than  by  a  vague  feeling  of  op- 


WHAT  THE  DAWN  BROUGHT  31 

pression  which  swiftly  assailed  her.  Where  was  Jenny, 
and  why  did  the  usual  silence  of  that  well-ordered  house- 
hold seem  increased  a  hundredfold,  deepening  into  some- 
thing strange  and  sinister  and  forbidding  ? 

They  paused  before  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  door.  Rose  raised 
her  hand  to  knock  when  the  Frenchwoman  stopped  her. 

"It  will  do  no  good.  Look  through  the  keyhole,  Madem- 
oiselle." 

Rose  drew  back,  her  round  eyes  fairly  starting  from  her 
head. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Matilde?"  she  whispered.  "Some- 
thing— something  dreadful  has  happened  to  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne  ?" 

"I  fear  that  she  is  very  ill,"  the  woman  responded  slowly 
as  if  choosing  each  word  with  care.  "She  must  have  fainted 
when  she  returned  from  the  dance.  The  door  is  locked, 
and  I  cannot  make  her  hear  me.  Look,  Mademoiselle !" 

Without  more  ado  Rose  stooped  and  peered  through  the 
keyhole.  The  next  instant  she  recoiled  and  her  handbag 
fell  to  the  floor. 

Through  the  orifice  she  had  beheld  the  head  and  shoulders 
of  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  who  appeared  to  be  lying  face  up- 
ward upon  the  floor.  The  hair  was  arranged  as  it  must 
have  been  on  the  previous  evening  and  the  marblelike  neck, 
encircled  by  a  string  of  huge  pearls,  arose  from  the  shim- 
mering satin  of  a  marvelous  dance  frock. 

"She — she  isn't — !"    The  word  would  not  come. 

"Madame  has  had  fainting  spells  before  which  lasted  for 
hours."  Matilde  shrugged. 

"But  we  must  get  help  immediately!  Why  didn't  you 
do  so  at  once  when  you  saw  her  lying  there?"  After  the 
first  shock  the  girl's  alert  brain  had  reacted  and  she  gazed 
sharply  at  the  Frenchwoman, 


3*  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"It  was  only  a  moment  before  you  came  that  I  myself 
looked  through  the  keyhole,  Mademoiselle,  and  I  thought 
that  you  would  know  best  what  to  do.  Jenny  and  the  cook, 
they  are  impossible,  they  know  nothing,  and  I  preferred  that 
you  should  be  here."  Matilde  hesitated,  then  added  in  cool 
significance.  "You  see,  Mademoiselle,  it  may  not  be  a 
fainting  spell,  after  all !" 

With  a  coldness  at  her  heart,  Rose  seized  the  handle  of 
the  door  and  shook  it  violently,  but  with  no  result.  Then 
backing  off  a  few  steps  she  hurled  her  lithe  young  strength 
against  it.  The  door  did  not  even  quiver.  The  next  instant 
Rose  was  flying  down  the  stairs. 

She  tore  open  the  front  door  and  stood  for  a  moment 
on  the  steps  gazing  up  and  down  the  quiet  street.  A  phy- 
sician's landaulet  stood  before  the  house  across  the  way. 
Motor  cars  were  coming  and  going,  and  a  delivery  boy  went 
whistling  past;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  that  which  she 
sought. 

With  an  inarticulate  mutter  of  exasperation  Rose  sped 
down  the  steps  and  toward  the  nearest  corner,  heedless  of 
the  curious  glances  cast  after  her.  She  had  neared  the 
intersection  of  the  avenue  when  a  blue-coated  figure  hove 
in  sight,  sauntering  along  in  apparent  aimlessness.  He 
quickened  his  pace  when  he  perceived  the  approaching  girl. 

"Officer !"  Rose  exclaimed  breathlessly.  "You  know  Mrs. 
Hartshorne's  house,  number  one  thirty  nine?" 

"Certainly,  Miss."    His  tone  was  tersely  interrogatory. 

"Come  quickly,  please.    There's  trouble  there  1" 

The  front  door  was  open  as  she  had  left  it.  Speechlessly 
she  pointed  up  the  stair.  The  Frenchwoman  still  cowered 
in  the  hall  before  her  mistress'  room,  but  Rose  gestured 
eloquently  to  the  keyhole,  and  the  policeman  looked  through 
it. 


WHAT  THE  DAWN  BROUGHT  33 

One  glance  was  sufficient.  The  officer  backed  away  and 
then  lunged  forward,  his  huge  shoulder  meeting  the  door 
with  a  crashing  impact.  It  strained  at  the  first  onslaught, 
bent  under  the  force  of  the  second  and  the  third  burst  its 
lock  and  flung  it  back,  sagging  drunkenly  on  its  hinges. 

The  policeman  entered  with  Rose  close  at  his  heels  and 
Matilde  behind  her. 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  lay  motionless  as  if  asleep,  save  that  her 
lids  were  not  quite  closed  and  beneath  the  hand  which 
rested  quietly  on  her  breast  a  sinister  dark  stain  appeared. 
The  finger-tips  of  the  other  hand  outstretched  beside  her, 
touched  the  handle  of  a  small,  blunt-nosed  revolver. 

"A-ah!  Madame  has  killed  herself!"  came  from  the 
Frenchwoman's  lips.  There  was  an  incongruous  note,  al- 
most of  exultation  in  the  cry.  Rose  whirled  upon  her,  her 
own  eyes  blurred  with  tears. 

"Then  who  locked  the  door  and  took  away  the  key?" 
she  demanded.  "Oh,  is  she  really  dead,  officer?" 

"Been  dead  for  hours,"  he  responded  as  he  rose  from 
his  knees  beside  the  recumbent  form.  The  girl  noted  that 
he  had  removed  his  cap.  "Where's  your  telephone  ?" 

Matilde  indicated  the  extension  beside  the  bed  and  as  he 
moved  briskly  toward  it,  Rose  exclaimed  softly. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Hartshorne!  I  can't  believe  that  she  did  it 
herself!  Matilde,  how  can  you  be  so  unfeeling?  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  thought  you  were  devoted  to  her,  and  yet  now 
you  seem  almost  glad !" 

"I  would  have  followed  Madame  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth!"  The  woman  responded  with  suddenly  aroused 
fervour.  "I  would  have  guarded  her  from  all  harm  with 
my  own  life  if  that  had  been  necessary.  But  if  she  has 
killed  herself,  what  would  you?" 

Rose  had  no  time  to  ponder  this  enigmatic  speech,  for 


34  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

the  policeman  turned  from  the  'phone  with  an  exclamation 
of  impatience. 

"Can't  get  any  action  here,"  he  grumbled.  "It  must  be 
switched  off  downstairs.  Go  and  turn  it." 

As  Matilde,  without  a  second  glance  at  the  still  form  of 
her  mistress,  left  the  room  to  obey,  he  approached  Rose. 

"You  don't  belong  here,  Miss,  though  I've  seen  you  come 
and  go  often.  What  are  you  doing  here?" 

Rose  explained  and  added  her  version  of  the  morning's 
tragic  discovery  in  a  shaking  voice,  her  tearful  eyes  re- 
turning as  though  fascinated  to  the  still  countenance  of  the 
dead  woman. 

"I  can't  think  why  she  should  have  done  it!"  she  con- 
cluded with  a  sob.  "Mrs.  Gaylor,  the  client  I've  just  come 
from,  said  Mrs.  Hartshorne  looked  simply  wonderful  at 
the  dance  last  night  and  'radiantly  happy'.  Those  were  her 
very  words !  Why  should  the  poor  thing  have  come  home 
and  shot  herself  ?" 

"The  telephone  extension  is  connected  now."  the  calm 
voice  of  Matilde  announced  from  the  doorway.  As  the 
policeman  turned  once  more  to  the  instrument  beside  the 
bed  Rose  raised  her  eyes  from  the  dead  woman  to  the 
living.  The  suppressed  excitement  with  which  Matilde 
had  greeted  her  on  her  arrival,  the  apprehension  and  dread 
she  had  evinced  before  the  closed  door,  had  dropped  from 
her  like  a  cloak  when  the  actual  fact  of  her  mistress'  death 
was  established.  Why  was  relief  rather  than  grief  sug- 
gested by  her  attitude?  If  she  would  have  been  willing,  as 
she  asserted,  to  give  her  life  for  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  preser- 
vation ? 

Her  obvious  lie  recurred  also  to  increase  the  perplexity  in 
the  girl's  mind.  When  she  greeted  her  at  the  door,  per- 
haps in  an  unguarded  instant  of  relief  at  her  coming, 


WHAT  THE  DAWN  BROUGHT  35 

Matilde  had  betrayed  the  fact  that  she  had  been  waiting 
for  her ;  yet  a  few  minutes  later,  when  asked  why,  she  had 
not  summoned  aid,  the  Frenchwoman  asseverated  that  she 
had  herself  made  the  discovery  only  a  moment  before  Rose 
came.  She  must  have  known  for  some  time,  perhaps  hours, 
what  awaited  them  upstairs.  Why  had  she  delayed  sound- 
ing the  alarm  until  Rose's  arrival  would  have  made  dis- 
covery certain,  or  an  evasion  have  later  inevitably  directed 
suspicion  against  herself? 

"Chief  Burke  is  coming  up  with  a  couple  of  men  from 
Headquarters,"  the  policeman  announced,  hanging  up  the 
receiver.  "The  Coroner'll  be  here,  too,  in  a  little  while. 
Now,  Miss," — he  addressed  himself  pointedly  to  Rose — 
"I'm  sorry,  but  I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  wait.  Will  you  go 
down  to  the  parlor,  please  ?  I  want  to  ask  the  maid,  here,  a 
few  questions." 

Rose  obeyed,  pausing  only  to  pick  up  her  hand-bag  which 
lay  in  the  hall.  The  drawing-room  was  dim  and  cool,  and 
fragrant  with  the  cloying  perfume  of  some  huge  crimson 
roses  which  hung  limply  from  a  low  glass  bowl  on  the 
piano.  The  girl  shuddered  involuntarily.  These  were  the 
roses  which  had  arrived  two  days  before,  when  she  had 
found  Mrs.  Hartshorne  ill,  and  had  first  seen  that  vicious 
little  weapon  which  now  lay  within  touch  of  those  nerveless, 
rigid  fingers  above. 

Presently  she  heard  Matilde  coming  downstairs;  but 
without  pausing  the  Frenchwoman  descended  to  the  base- 
ment, from  whence  shrill  outcries  announced  that  she  had 
broken  the  news  to  the  other  servants.  Rose  wondered  why 
the  policeman  did  not  appear,  until  she  heard  a  chair  scrape 
the  hardwood  floor  of  the  hall  overhead.  She  concluded 
that  he  had  taken  up  his  post  outside  the  room  of  death. 

The  minutes  seemed  very  long  as  she  sat  there  alone,  but 


36  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

at  length  Matilde  and  Jenny,  followed  by  the  cook  and  the 
little  kitchen  maid,  filed  into  the  room,  evidently  under 
orders.  The  Frenchwoman  walked  to  the  window,  where 
she  stood  looking  out  with  hard  tearless  eyes ;  but  the  others 
seated  themselves  awkwardly  in  the  nearest  chairs.  Jenny 
wept  softly,  but  the  cook  gave  herself  up  to  voluble  lamen- 
tations, while  Sadie,  the  kitchen  maid,  sat  with  dropped 
jaw  and  protruding,  lack-luster  eyes,  dumb  with  terror. 

The  raucous  cry  of  strawberry  venders  and  the  laughter 
of  children  on  their  way  home  from  school  came  shrilly  to 
Rose's  ears  from  the  street  outside.  At  last  the  grinding 
of  brakes  before  the  door  and  a  sharp  peal  of  the  bell  told 
her  that  their  vigil  was  at  an  end. 

Jenny  admitted  the  officials  and  they  trooped  upstairs. 
Shortly  afterward  came  the  Coroner. 

Even  the  cook  was  hushed  to  silence,  as  they  listened 
with  strained  ears  to  the  subdued  murmur  of  voices  from 
above.  No  words  were  distinguishable  until,  after  a  pro- 
longed debate,  heavy  footsteps  approached  the  stairs  and  a 
sentence,  evidently  flung  back  over  the  man's  shoulder, 
reached  the  women  huddled  below. 

"If  that's  the  case,  Doctor,  then  Paul  Harvey  is  the  lad 
to  handle  it  for  us." 

The  steps  descended  and  a  stout,  grayhaired  man  with 
bristling  mustache  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Where  is  the  'phone  down  here  ?  Come  and  show  me  the 
switch,  one  of  you.  I  don't  want  to  talk  from  the  exten- 
sion." 

Matilde  did  not  even  turn,  but  Jenny  complied,  and  the 
stern  voice,  softened  now  and  almost  fatherly,  came  once 
more  to  their  ears : 

"Hello?  Chief  Burke  talking.  I  want  to  speak  to  Paul 
.  .  .  Hello,  Paul,  feel  well  enough  to  take  on  another 


WHAT  THE  DAWN  BROUGHT  37 

case  right  away?  .  .  .  Good  boy!  .  .  .  Number  one 
thirty-nine  West  Farragut  Street  .  .  .  Big  thing,  all  right, 
the  biggest  in  years.  Looked  like  a  plain  suicide  at  first, 
but  it's  a  clear  case  of  murder  ...  In  ten  minutes? 
Goodbye." 

Rose  scarcely  heard  when  the  Chief  of  Police  hung  up 
the  receiver  and  started  once  more  up  the  stairs,  for  at  the 
word  "murder"  Matilde  swayed,  caught  vainly  at  the  cur- 
tains to  save  herself,  and  fell  in  a  crumpled  unconscious 
heap  upon  the  floor. 


Chapter  IV. 
QUESTIONS. 

IT  was  within  the  allotted  ten  minutes  that  a  modest 
green  runabout  drew  up  at  the  curb  behind  the  Coroner's 
sedan  and  the  Chief's  impressive  twelve-cylinder,  be- 
fore the  little  house  whose  dicreetly  curtained  windows 
veiled  a  tragedy. 

The  humming  of  the  motor  ceased  abruptly  and  a  young 
man  sprang  from  behind  the  wheel  and  darted  up  the  steps, 
through  the  crowd  of  excited,  curious  bystanders  which  had 
already  gathered  about  the  door. 

He  was  a  tall,  slender  young  man  with  a  splendid  breadth 
of  shoulder  and  strong,  clean-cut  features.  One  looked 
twice  before  noting  the  slight  halting  limp  and  the  shadows 
of  ever-present  suffering  about  the  deep  brown  eyes. 

"That's  the  boy !  Come  up  here,  Paul !"  the  Chief  called 
from  the  head  of  the  stairs,  when  Jenny  had  opened  the 
door.  "I've  got  something  to  show  you." 

Paul  bounded  lightly  up  the  stairs  albeit  an  involuntary 
grimace  of  pain  twisted  his  lips.  The  Chief  threw  an  arm 
across  his  shoulder  in  fatherly  fashion  and  drew  him  into 
the  bedroom  beyond. 

"Doctor  Cravenshaw,  this  is  Paul  Harvey,  son  of  Alfred 
Harvey,  the  former  Commissioner,  and  one  of  the  best! 
Paul  is  attached  to  the  Force  in  a  semi-official  capacity  as  a 
special  investigator  and  he's  given  us  a  lot  of  help ;  rounded 
up  the  Reuhl  counterfeiting  gang  and  got  Van  Vrenken,  the 

38 


QUESTIONS  39 

diamond  thief.  We  haven't  put  him  on  a  murder  case 
before ;  there  wasn't  one  big  enough  for  him.  That's  why 
you  haven't  run  into  him  until  now." 

"I'm  very  glad  to  know  you,  sir."  The  Coroner  shook 
hands  cordially.  "I've  heard  of  your  father,  of  course. 
Unless  I'm  mistaken,  you  will  find  this  case  big  enough  to 
tax  all  your  powers." 

He  stepped  aside,  revealing  the  body,  and  Paul,  who  had 
flushed  deeply  at  the  Chief's  praise,  advanced  and  dropped 
on  one  knee  beside  the  rigid  form,  his  keen  eyes  taking  in 
every  detail. 

"Mrs.  Hartshorne  herself,"  he  commented.  "I  thought 
it  must  be  when  you  'phoned,  Chief;  you  wouldn't  have 
come  rushing  up  in  person  if  it  had  been  just  one  of  the 
servants.  She  has  been  dead  for  some  hours,  hasn't  she, 
Doctor?" 

"Eight  or  ten,  perhaps  longer,"  the  Coroner  responded. 
"I'd  like  to  call  your  attention  to  the  posture  of  the  body, 
Mr.  Harvey.  Looks  like  suicide,  right  enough,  doesn't  it, 
at  first  glance  ?  And  yet " 

"There  aren't  any  powder  marks  on  the  clothing  about 
the  wound."  Paul  interrupted  him  "That's  one  item  for  a 
starter.  The  shot  must  have  been  fired  from  several  feet 
away,  at  least.  And  who  arranged  her  gown  so  nicely  about 
her  feet  and  tried  to  close  her  eyes?" 

"Hah !    You  got  that,  did  you  ?"    The  Coroner  smiled. 

"I  told  you  he  would !"  exulted  Chief  Burke. 

"Oh,  well,  the  eyes  of  a  corpse  are  usually  staring  wide, 
and  when  they  are  mere  slits  like  these,  it's  a  safe  bet  that 
somebody  tried  to  close  them,"  explained  Paul  half -apologe- 
tically. Then  he  bent  still  lower  over  the  body. 

The  two  older  men  watched  him  in  silence,  forbearing 
to  interrupt  his  examination  by  any  advice  of  their  own. 


40  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

At  length  he  sat  back  on  his  heels  and  looked  up  at  them. 

"I  can't  make  it  out,"  he  admitted  frankly.  "This  is 
surely  a  unique  murderer  you  have  steered  me  up  against, 
Chief.  He  kills  the  woman,  puts  the  revolver  in  her  hand 
to  try  to  save  himself  from  suspicion,  and  then  an  almost 
womanish  sentimental  pity  takes  possession  of  him.  Know- 
ing that  he's  likely  to  be  discovered  at  any  moment,  he  stays 
long  enough  to  close  her  eyes,  arrange  her  skirt  about  her 
ankles  and  even  places  one  of  her  hands  across  her  breast, 
covering  the  wound." 

Chief  Burke  looked  a  trifle  disconcerted  and  the  Coroner 
laughed. 

"The  Chief  thought  that,  in  falling,  her  elbow  might  have 
struck  the  edge  of  that  chair  there  beside  her,  and  her  arm 
been  flung  across  her  breast,  but  I  tried  to  show  him  how 
unlikely  that  theory  was.  In  such  a  case,  reflex  action  would 
have  made  the  hand  slip  limply  off  the  breast  to  the  floor. 
No,  the  upper  arm  was  resting  on  the  floor  when  the  fore- 
arm was  raised  and  pressed  across  the  body,"  Dr.  Craven- 
shaw  explained.  "I'm  glad  that  point  did  not  escape  you." 

"You  have  examined  the  revolver,  sir?"  Paul  turned  to 
the  Chief. 

"Yes,  one  shot  has  been  fired  from  it,"  the  latter  re- 
sponded. "She  must  have  been  killed  immediately  after  her 
return  from  the  Red  Cross  ball  at  the  Ledyards'." 

"So  that  is  where  she  had  been,"  Paul  nodded.  "I've 
seen  her  name  in  the  papers  a  lot,  of  course,  in  connection 
with  society  and  war  work  and  that  sort  of  thing.  She  had 
time  to  take  her  cloak  off  and  lay  it  over  that  chair — by  the 
way,  have  you  examined  it?" 

"The  cloak?    Yes.    No  evidence  there." 

Nevertheless  Paul  picked  up  the  luxurious  fur-trimmed 
garment  and  looked  at  both  sides  of  it  closely  before  re- 


QUESTIONS  41 

placing  it  with  a  slight  shrug  as  of  acquiescence.    He  turned 
again  to  the  Coroner  and  remarked : 

"There  doesn't  seem  to  be  very  much  blood,  Doctor." 

"No,  but  the  revolver  is  of  small  caliber  and  the  lady 
may  have  been  anaemic,"  Dr.  Cravenshaw  replied.  "All 
that,  of  course,  will  be  determined  at  the  autopsy.  I  thought 
myself  that  the  effusion  was  very  slight;  it  has  probably 
soaked  up  into  the  rug." 

"What  time  did  Mrs.  Hartshorne  return?  That  ought  to 
give  you  approximately  the  hour  in  which  she  met  her 
death."  Paul  resumed  to  his  superior.  "Was  she  alone? 
Who  let  her  in?  Why  didn't  the  sound  of  the  revolver  shot 
alarm  the  house?" 

"Don't  know,  my  boy.  I've  let  you  in  on  the  ground 
floor;  called  you  up  the  minute  Dr.  Cravenshaw  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a  case  of  murder.  I  waited  for 
you  to  come  before  questioning  the  servants  but  Officer 
King,  here,  who  broke  down  the  door,  got  a  statement  from 
the  maid  and  the  other  young  woman." 

"Hello,  John!"  Paul  grinned  in  friendly  fashion  at  the 
policeman  who  appeared  in  the  doorway  at  mention  of  his 
name.  "How  did  you  come  to  get  into  this?" 

"It's  my  regular  beat  now,  Mr.  Harvey."  Officer  King 
returned  the  grin  as  he  saluted.  "I  was  coming  along  down 
the  block  when  the  young  girl  that  does  fancy  letter-writing 
came  running  out  to  me  and  told  me  there  was  trouble  here. 
Her  story  was  straight  enough,  but  I  couldn't  get  much  out 
of  that  Frenchwoman,  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  maid." 

He  told  of  the  finding  of  the  body  and,  when  he  had 
concluded,  the  Coroner  prepared  to  depart. 

"I'll  have  the  body  removed  in  an  hour,"  the  latter 
observed.  "Let  me  see,  to-day  is  Friday  and  I  have  the 
autopsy  to  perform ;  I'll  call  the  inquest  for  Monday." 


42  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"All  right,  Doctor.  I'll  have  all  your  witnesses  on  hand," 
the  Chief  assured  him.  "It  may  have  been  an  inside  job 
at  that,  but  there's  no  telling  yet.  I'll  call  at  your  office 
later." 

The  Coroner  nodded  and  withdrew  and  Paul  strode  to  a 
window  and  looked  out. 

"No  chance  of  anyone  climbing  up  here;  there  isn't  a 
vine  or  even  a  crevice  to  give  him  toe-hold." 

"And  the  windows  were  all  fastened  on  the  inside,"  sup- 
plemented Chief  Burke.  "The  murderer,  whoever  he  was, 
locked  the  door  and  carried  the  key  away  with  him.  That's 
how  the  maid,  Matilde,  found  out  something  was  wrong; 
she  looked  through  the  keyhole." 

"Let's  go  and  have  a  talk  with  her  now?"  suggested 
Paul.  "I'll  go  over  the  room  thoroughly  later,  but  I'd  like 
to  hear  what  the  servants  have  to  say  for  themselves,  and 
the  social  secretary,  too." 

Leaving  Officer  King  still  on  duty  they  descended  and 
found  the  servants  grouped  about  Matilde,  who  lay  upon  the 
couch.  Rose  Adare  was  standing  a  little  apart. 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  the  Chief  demanded,  bruskly. 

"Matilde  fainted."    It  was  Rose  who  replied. 

"I  am  better  now ;  it  is  nothing."  Matilde  sat  up  weakly. 
"You  wished  to  see  me,  Monsieur?" 

"This  young  man,  here,  would  like  to  ask  you  a  few 
questions.  What  is  that  small  room  across  the  hall  ?" 

"The  reception  room,  Monsieur." 

"We'll  go  in  there.  The  rest  of  you  wait  here."  The 
Chief  turned  to  Rose.  "Sorry  to  detain  you,  too,  but  it  is 
necessary." 

"I  understand."  Rose  was  gazing  at  the  slightly  lame 
young  man  with  sympathetic  interest.  "I  don't  mind  wait- 
ing." 


QUESTIONS  43 

The  Chief  led  the  way  to  the  reception  room  and  seating 
himself  precariously  in  a  fragile  gilt  chair,  motioned 
Matilde  to  one  on  the  other  side  of  the  table.  Paul  closed 
the  door  and  began  pacing  the  floor  pausing  only  to  shoot 
question  after  question  at  the  Frenchwoman. 

"What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Matilde  Benoit,  Monsieur." 

"Where  did  you  come  from?" 

"From  Peronne  in  the  north  of  France,  Monsieur.  The 
war  has  perhaps  destroyed  all  records " 

There  was  a  note  of  mockery  in  the  observation  and 
Paul  interrupted  her  peremptorily. 

"How  long  since  you  came  to  this  country?" 

"Nine  years,  Monsieur.  My  last  position  was  in  New 
York  with  an  old  lady  who  died." 

"How  long  have  you  been  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne  ?" 

"Seven  months,  Monsieur;  one  month  before  we  came 
here  to  Eastopolis." 

Her  tone  was  demurely  respectful  now,  but  it  was  plain 
that  she  meant  to  give  her  interrogator  no  information 
that  was  not  specifically  required.  Paul,  realizing  this, 
changed  his  tactics. 

"Tell  me  where  you  met  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  and  how  you 
came  to  enter  her  employ." 

"In  New  York."  Matilde  hesitated.  "When  the  old 
lady  died  I  was  worn  out  from  caring  for  her ;  I  had  to  go  to 
the  hospital  and  when  I  came  out  I  could  get  no  work.  At 
last  I  found  a  position  in  the  linen  room  of  a  big  hotel  and 
there  I  met  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  She  took  a  fancy  to  me  and 
engaged  me  for  her  maid." 

"What  hotel  was  this  ?" 

"The  Belmonde,  Monsieur." 

"Very  good;  we'll  let  that  go  for  awhile."    Paul  halted 


44  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

beside  her  so  that  in  turning  to  him  she  was  compelled  to 
face  the  light.  "Who  accompanied  Mrs.  Hartshorne  to 
the  dance  last  night?" 

"She  dined  first  at  the  house  of  Madame  Gaylor.  I  think 
she  went  on  with  them  to  the  dance." 

"At  what  time  did  she  return?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Monsieur.  Madame  instructed  me  not 
to  wait  up  for  her." 

"Did  one  of  the  other  maids  open  the  door  for  her?" 

"Oh,  no,  Monsieur !    Madame  took  her  own  key." 

"And  you  heard  nothing  during  the  night?" 

"Nothing  whatever.  We  were  all  asleep."  Matilde 
paused,  and  added  in  sudden  volubility.  "If  it  is  the  revol- 
ver shot  that  you  mean,  Monsieur,  it  is  not  strange;  the 
motor  speedway  runs  through  the  next  street  and  we  are 
accustomed  to  the  sound  of  bursting  tires." 

It  was  the  first  observation  she  had  volunteered,  and 
there  was  a  shade  too  much  eagerness  in  her  tone. 

"Tell  me  exactly  what  happened  this  morning.  Did  you 
notice  anything  unusual  when  you  first  came  down  stairs?" 

"But,  no,  Monsieur!  It  is  Madame's  custom  to  sleep 
always  with  her  door  locked.  I  descended  and  breakfasted 
with  the  other  maids  and  then  mended  some  of  Madame's 
laces.  I  have  orders  not  to  disturb  her  until  she  rings, 
but  that  is  ordinarily  about  ten,  unless  Madame  is  ill." 
Matilde's  volubility  had  slackened  and  she  spoke  now  almost 
haltingly.  "She  has  not  been  well,  lately,  and  I  became 
anxious  when  the  hour  of  eleven  came  and  no  sound  from 
Madame's  room.  I  went  to  her  door  and  knocked  softly, 
but  there  was  no  reply.  It  occurred  to  me  then  that  per- 
haps Madame  had  not  returned ;  that  she  had  stayed  at  the 
house  of  Madame  Gaylor.  It  has  not  happened  before,  but 
Mademe  has  for  some  days  been  not  quite  herself " 


QUESTIONS  45 

The  woman  paused  with  a  quick  catch  of  her  breath  and 
Chief  Burke  leaned  across  the  table. 

"Go  on!"  he  commanded  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  "What 
do  you  mean?  'Not  quite  herself '?" 

"But  she  was  nervous,  Monsieur.  Fatigued  and  restless. 
The  whim  might  have  come  to  remain  with  her  friends." 
The  moment's  respite  had  been  sufficient.  Matilde's  tone 
was  bland,  although  she  spoke  more  slowly  as  if  weighing 
each  word.  "I  turned  the  handle,  but  the  door  was  locked 
so  I  knew  Madame  was  at  home.  I  did  not  at  the  moment 
discover  that  the  key  was  gone." 

"You  made  no  other  effort  to  arouse  your  mistress?" 
Paul  took  up  the  inquiry  once  more. 

"Not  then,  Monsieur.  I  knew  that  Mademosille  Adare, 
the  secretary,  would  come  in  one  half -hour  and  I  decided 
that  I  would  wait  until  her  arrival  would  make  it  necessary 
to  disturb  Madame.  But  Mademoiselle  Adare  was  late 
and  I  became  alarmed !  Suppose  Madame  were  indeed  ill ! 
I  went  again  to  her  door  and  this  time  I  saw  a  tiny  point  of 
light  coming  through  the  keyhole.  I  bent  and  looked — ! 
Messieurs,  you  know  what  I  saw !" 

"Why  did  you  not  give  the  alarm  immediately?" 

"But  there  was  no  time,  Monsieur.  I  thought  that 
Madame  must  be  ill,  unconscious,  and  I  flew  down  the 
stairs  to  tell  the  other  servants  and  summon  a  doctor  when 
at  the  moment  Mademoiselle  Adare  rang  the  bell." 

"I  see."  Paul  walked  a  few  paces  away  and  then  wheeled. 
"Did  you  ever  see  that  revolver  before,  the  one  lying  be- 
side Mrs.  Hartshorne's  body?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Monsieur." 

"Look  here!"  Chief  Burke  brought  his  fist  down  on 
the  frail  table.  "What  do  you  mean,  you  don't  know? 
Speak  up  and  don't  beat  about  the  bush  1" 


46  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Madame  had  a  revolver,  of  course.  I  have  seen  hers 
many  times,  but  how  can  I  be  sure  that  it  is  the  same?" 
Matilde  eyed  the  Chief  calmly. 

"What  was  her  object  in  keeping  a  revolver?  Was  she 
afraid  of  burglars?"  he  demanded. 

"What  else,  Monsieur?"  Matilde  shrugged.  "Madame's 
jewels  are  of  great  value  and  always  there  is  much  money 
about  the  house." 

"Had  she  a  safe  ?"  Paul  intervened  once  more. 

"No,  Monsieur.  The  jewels  are  in  my  charge  and  the 
money  Madame  hides  in  odd  places.  It  is — what  do  you 
say? — a  fad  of  hers.  There  will  be  a  hundred  dollar  bill 
between  the  pages  of  a  book;  two,  three  hundred  stuffed 
in  a  vase,  as  much  as  five  hundred,  perhaps,  slipped  behind 
a  picture." 

Paul  and  the  Chief  exchanged  significant  glances. 

"You  say  you  had  charge  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  jewels. 
Have  you  a  list  of  them  ?" 

"Certainly,  Monsieur.  But  the  jewels  themselves  are  in 
Madame's  bedroom." 

"Who  were  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  closest  friends?"  Paul 
switched  the  subject  of  his  inquiry  abruptly. 

"All  the  haut  monde — how  do  you  say? — the  best  people 
of  Eastopolis,"  responded  Matilde  promptly. 

"But  elsewhere?"  insisted  Paul.  "Have  no  old  friends 
visited  her?  Has  she  never  spoken  of  them  or  of  her 
family  ?" 

"Madame  has  had  no  visitors."  A  guarded  look,  like  a 
veil,  filmed  the  woman's  over-bright  piercing  black  eyes. 
"Nor  has  she  spoken  of  old  friends.  Madame  is  not  in  the 
habit  of  discussing  her  affairs  with  me,  but  I  have  under- 
stood that  her  husband  is  dead  and  she  has  no  near 
relatives." 


QUESTIONS  47 

"Her  letters — surely  she  received  letters  from  other 
places?  Where  did  such  letters  come  from?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Monsieur."  There  was  a  trace  of 
hauteur  in  Matilde's  tone.  "I  do  not  pry  into  Madame's 
mail." 

"But  the  post-marks?  Have  you  never  noticed  a  post- 
mark other  than  Eastopolis  on  a  letter  of  hers?" 

"Never,  Monsieur.  I  do  not  even  glance  at  them !"  she 
added  pointedly.  "I  know  nothing  whatever  of  Madame." 

"That  will  do."  Paul  turned  away.  "You  may  go;  but 
I  shall  want  to  ask  you  some  questions  later." 

Chief  Burke  stirred  in  his  chair  and  made  as  if  to 
speak,  but  he  evidently  thought  better  of  it  and  Matilde 
left  the  room  in  silence.  When  she  had  gone  he  turned  to 
the  younger  man. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her,  Paul?  Cool  customer,  eh?" 

"She's  holding  out  on  us.  There's  no  question  of  that, 
sir,"  responded  Paul.  "But  whether  it  has  any  bearing  on 
the  actual  murder  or  not  remains  to  be  seen.  There  never 
was  a  maid  yet  that  didn't  know  her  mistress'  affairs  better 
than  that  lady  herself ;  however,  she  may  have  a  personal 
reason  for  keeping  quiet.  I'll  get  the  Belmonde  on  long 
distance  later  and  verify  that  part  of  her  story,  at  least. 
Suppose  we  take  the  others  now?  That  little  secretary, 
or  whatever  she  is,  can  wait.  I'll  finish  with  the  house 
servants  first." 

The  interview  with  the  cook  was  productive  of  no  rele- 
vant facts.  Hannah  Weeks  was  her  name;  she'd  been 
working  in  Eastopolis  for  twenty-seven  years,  and  only 
three  places  at  that.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  taken  her 
straight  from  the  Oakleys,  when  they  gave  up  housekeeping 
five  months  before,  and  a  nicer  lady  she'd  never  worked 
for ;  kept  out  of  her  kitchen  and  never  a  complaint  and  paid 


48  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

the  bills  without  a  murmur  when  they  came  in  the  first  of 
the  month.  Whoever  it  was  killed  her,  she — Hannah — 
would  like  to  get  her  two  hands  on  him. 

Sadie,  the  little  kitchen  maid,  was  still  tongue-tied  and 
staring.  She  had  been  engaged  from  an  agency  the  same 
week  that  the  cook  had  come  and  had  scarcely  ever  laid  eyes 
on  her  mistress  except  when  she  received  her  month's 
wages  or  had  looked  out  of  the  front  basement  windows 
to  see  Mrs.  Hartshorne  go  out  in  all  her  lovely  clothes. 
She  slept  in  the  same  room  with  Hannah  at  the  top  of  the 
house  and  neither  of  them  had  wakened  during  the  previous 
night. 

"What  were  you  doing  in  the  front  basement?"  Paul 
asked.  "What  is  the  room  used  for?" 

"It's  a  kind  of  a  sittin'-room  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  fixed 
up  for  us  girls."  Sadie's  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper 
and  her  hands  commenced  to  twist  nervously  in  the  folds 
of  her  apron.  "Matilde,  she  don't  never  go  in  there  but 
the  rest  of  us  sits  there  when  our  work  is  done  except  when 
Jenny's  feller  comes." 

"Did  you  always  watch  your  mistress  go  out?"  Paul 
concealed  a  smile. 

"Oh,  no,  sir."  Sadie's  embarrassment  increased.  "But 
I  like  to  see  the  lights  and  the  automobiles  and  the  people. 
I  never  get  anywheres  except  to  a  movie  now  and  again." 

There  was  unconscious  pathos  in  her  tone,  and  Paul 
would  have  dismissed  her,  but  she  appeared  to  hesitate. 

"Is  there  something  you  want  to  tell  me?" 

Sadie  shivered  as  if  with  a  sudden  chill. 

"No,  sir,  only — oh,  do  you  think  'twas  a  burglar  killed 
her  ?  I — there's  folks  that  hang  around — " 

"Has  anybody  been  hanging  around  here?"  boomed  the 
Chief, 


QUESTIONS  49 

Sade  jumped.  "No-no  sir!"  she  quavered.  "I  just 
thought " 

"Well,  you  get  along  and  send  Jenny  in  here,"  he  ordered 
good-humoredly  and  as  the  frightened  girl  scuttled  out  he 
added  to  Paul.  "Movie  stuff!  Can  you  beat  it?" 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  the  young  man  responded  thought- 
fully. "Perhaps  she  has  seen  something  that  she  is  too 
scared  to  mention." 

The  bell  rang  at  this  juncture  and  heavy  feet  mounted 
the  stairs.  The  Chief  joined  them,  but  Paul  still  paced 
meditatively  up  and  down  the  narrow  space  before  the 
bay-window. 

Purely  routine  work  as  it  was,  this  examination  of  the 
members  of  the  small  household  might  in  a  chance  word 
lend  a  valuable  clue,  and  yet  he  shook  his  head  abstractedly. 
In  that  silent  room  upstairs,  now  echoing  with  the  stamping 
feet  of  the  Coroner's  men,  Paul  had  come  upon  a  detail 
which  had  escaped  the  observation  of  the  others  and  which 
pointed  to  an  hypothesis  so  incredible  that  he  strove  to  put 
it  from  his  thoughts.  This  was  no  time  for  vague  fantas- 
tic theories !  Facts  were  what  he  needed — facts  and  yet 
more  facts ;  but  the  detail  remained  fixed  before  his  mental 
vision. 

The  footsteps,  thudding  in  measured  tread  now,  came 
slowly  down  the  stairs  and  out  the  front  door. 

Paul  walked  to  the  window.  A  covered  wagon  was  drawn 
up  where  the  Coroner's  car  had  stood  and  a  murmur  that 
was  almost  a  groan  went  up  from  the  close-packed  pha- 
lanxes of  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  as  the  men  with 
their  ominous  burden  appeared.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was 
leaving  her  pretty  little  house  forever, 


Chapter  V. 
A  STRING  OF  PEARLS. 

«r¥TTTELL,  that's  over!"  The  Chief  settled  his 
^^  enormous  bulk  carefully  into  the  absurd  gilt 
chair  once  more.  "Let's  get  through  here ;  I've 
got  a  lot  to  do  downtown.  Where's  that  girl  Jenny  ?" 

Jenny  appeared,  weeping  afresh  from  the  sight  of  her 
late  mistress'  tragic  departure.  She  had  come  from  the 
same  agency  as  Sadie,  at  about  the  same  time,  and  under- 
stood that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  just  bought  the  house  and 
moved  in.  Like  the  rest,  she  had  slept  undisturbed  during 
the  night,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  murder  until  Matilde 
came  down  and  told  them  an  hour  or  so  before. 

"Only  Matilde  didn't  say  it  was  murder,"  she  amended. 
"She  said  poor  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  killed  herself." 

"H'm!"  vouchsafed  the  Chief. 

"You  take  the  mail  from  the  postman,  don't  you,  Jenny  ?" 
asked  Paul  hastily  as  if  to  forestall  his  superior. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  look  at  the  post-marks,  don't  you  ?" 

She  nodded,  wonderingly. 

"Did  you  ever  see  any  letters  with  post-marks  other  than 
Eastopolis  ?" 

"No,  sir.  I  thought  it  was  queer,  Mrs.  Hartshorne  being 
a  stranger  here;  but  she  said  something  once  about  her 
folks  living  abroad,  and  I  guessed  maybe  they  was  all 
killed  in  the  war." 

50 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS  51 

"You    liked    Mrs.    Hartshorne,    didn't    you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir !"  The  tears  started  again.  "She  was  never 
cross  and  cranky  like  some,  but  always  kind." 

"Always  in  good  spirits?" 

"Happy,  like?"  Jenny  hesitated,  and  mopped  her  eyes 
with  a  rag  of  a  handkerchief.  "Well,  yes,  sir,  until  just  the 
last  few  days.  She  was  sick  and  I  think  she  was  worrying 
about  something,  too.  Anyway,  she  changed  all  of  a 
sudden." 

"When  did  this  change  take  place?"  Paul  halted  before 
her.  "You  say  within  the  last  few  days.  What  day?" 

"It  was  Tuesday  evening."  Jenny  drew  a  long  breath 
as  if  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  unburden  herself.  "Matilde 
was  out  and  I  hooked  Mrs.  Hartshorne  into  her  dress  to 
go  to  the  Gaylors'  dinner  party.  She  was  excited  and 
laughing,  and  told  me  I  could  take  the  flowers  that  had  been 
in  the  drawing-room  since  the  day  before  and  put  them 
down  in  our  basement  sitting-room  because — because  I  was 
expecting  some  company.  She  came  back  real  early,  much 
sooner  than  she  usually  does  and  the  minute  I  let  her  in  I 
saw  that  something  was  the  matter.  She  just  stood  there 
after  I'd  closed  the  door  as  if  she  was  sort  of  bewildered. 
Then  she  began  to  sway  and  I  sprang  forward  to  catch  her, 
thinking  she  was  going  to  faint,  but  she  pulled  herself  to- 
gether. She  looked  as  if  she'd  seen  a  ghost  and  she  didn't 
even  seem  to  know  that  I  was  there.  'It's  come !'  she  said, 
as  if  she  was  talking  through  her  set  teeth.  'It's  come.' 

'"What  is  it,  Mrs.  Hartshorne?'  I  asked  her.  'Don't 
you  feel  well  ?  Can  I  get  you  anything  ?' 

"That  sort  of  roused  her,  and  she  said  no,  that  she  had  a 
headache  but  would  be  all  right  in  the  morning,  and  she 
went  on  upstairs  to  her  room,  hanging  on  to  the  banisters 
as  if  she  was  afraid  of  falling.  And  I  never  saw  a  smile 


52  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

on  her  face  after  that  except  when  the  gentlemen  were 
here." 

"What  gentlemen?" 

"Mr.  Swarthmore,  sir,  and  the  old  one,  Mr.  Braddock." 

The  Chief's  chair  creaked  ominously. 

"You  don't  mean  the  munitions  man  and  the  President 
of  the  Eastopolis  Trust  Company?"  he  interjected. 

"I  guess  so,  sir.  Leastways  it  was  Mr.  Cornelius  Swarth- 
more a:  d  Mr.  Wendle  Braddock.  I've  taken  their  cards  to 
her  too  often  not  to  remember."  Jenny  picked  up  the  thread 
of  her  narrative.  "Wednesday  morning  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
woke  up  sick,  but  she  seemed  all  well  again  and  looked 
lovely  when  Mr.  Swarthmore  came  for  tea  in  the  afternoon. 
She  was  restless,  though,  and  her  nerves  were  all  on  the 
jump ;  I  could  tell  that  when  I  served  the  tea  to  them  in  the 
drawing-room.  Then  Mr.  Swarthmore  left  and  Mr.  Brad- 
dock  came  for  dinner,  and  all  through  the  evening  I  could 
see  she  was  just  keeping  herself  up.  The  next  day — yester- 
day— she  seemed  awful  excited,  but  anxious  more  than 
happy.  She  went  out  in  the  afternoon — tell  me,  sir!"  the 
girl  broke  off  suddenly,  "was  she  really  shot  with  that  little 
revolver  of  hers  ?" 

"So  we  think,"  Paul  replied  cautiously.  "You've  seen  it, 
then?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir.  She  always  kept  it  in  her  room,  but  yester- 
day— she  took  it  out  with  her." 

Again  the  Chief's  chair  creaked  but  Paul  hastily  inter- 
posed. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"She  dropped  it  in  the  hall  as  she  was  going  out.  She 
had  stopped  to  give  me  some  directions  and  it  slipped  from 
under  the  moleskin  cape  coatee  she  wore  and  clattered  down 
on  to  the  floor.  I  jumped  back,  for  I  was  always  scared  of 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS  53 

it,  but  she  said  it  wasn't  loaded ;  that  she  was  taking  it  to 
have  it  repaired.  She  picked  it  up  herself  while  I  was 
getting  up  my  nerve  to  touch  it,  and  went  on  out." 

"Did  you  see  the  revolver  again  ?" 

"No,  sir."  Jenny  shuddered.  "Oh,  how  did  anyone  get 
in  to  kill  her?  I  locked  up  real  careful  last  night  before  I 
went  to  bed  just  like  I  always  do,  only  I  left  the  chain  off 
the  front  door  so  that  she  could  come  in  with  her  key.  I'm 
particular  about  it  because  of  there  being  no  man  in  the 
house ;  and  it  makes  me  nervous  to  have  all  that  money  lying 
around,  to  say  nothing  of  her  jewelry." 

"What  money?"  Paul  eyed  her  sharply. 

"Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  dollars!"  She  lowered  her 
voice  as  if  awe-stricken  at  the  sum  she  named.  "The  first 
I  knew  of  it,  I  found  a  hundred  dollar  bill  in  a  little  ivory 
box  on  the  drawing-room  mantel  when  I  was  cleaning  one 
day  about  two  months  ago.  I  took  it  to  her,  but  she  laughed 
and  said  she  was  always  hiding  money  about,  that  it  was  all 
right.  After  that  I  found  more  in  all  kinds  of  places  and 
I  begged  her  to  put  it  away,  for  if  any  of  it  was  gone  of 
course  we  would  get  the  blame — us  girls,  I  mean.  She  said 
she  wasn't  afraid  to  trust  us,  and  she  wouldn't  listen.  But 
it  made  me  nervous  to  think  of  it  being  in  the  house,  even." 

"Did  you  ever  speak  of  this  money  to  anyone  outside  the 
household,  Jenny  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Not  even  to  your  'fellow',  the  one  who  calls  on  you 
here  ?"  Paul  pursued. 

The  girl's  face  flamed. 

"I  should  think  not!  But  even  if  I  had,  Harry  is  all 
right!  Why,  his  father  is  a  bank  messenger  down  at  the 
First  National,  and  Harry  himself  is  under  bond,  as  they 
call  it;  he's  a  delivery  boy  for  Webster  and  Weil,  the 


54  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

jewelers.     I  said  to  him  only  yesterday  afternoon " 

"Oh,  he  called  on  you  yesterday,  did  he?"  The  Chief 
leaned  forward. 

"He  did  not!"  snapped  Jenny.  "I  have  no  callers  inter- 
ferin'  with  my  work  in  the  daytime!  He  came  here  with 
a  package  for  Mrs.  Hartshorne." 

"What  was  it?" 

"How  should  I  know?"  she  tossed  her  head.  "It  was 
square  and  flat,  and  it  must  have  been  a  present,  because 
she  looked  surprised  when  I  took  it  up  to  her.  I  didn't  see 
what  was  in  it." 

"Was  this  before  she  went  out?"  asked  Paul. 

"No,  real  late;  after  six  o'clock,  for  she  was  getting 
ready  to  go  out  to  dinner  and  that  Red  Cross  dance,  and 
Miss  Adare  was  here,  attending  to  some  letters." 

"Did  you  see  Mrs.  Hartshorne  again?" 

"Only  as  she  was  going  out.  She  was  all  muffled  up  in 
her  cloak,  but  Miss  Adare  said  she  looked  lovely,  like  a 
queen !  And  to  think  of  her  now !" 

There  were  symptoms  of  returning  tears  and  Paul  hur- 
riedly dismissed  her. 

"All  right,  Jenny.  I  won't  ask  you  any  more  questions 
now.  Will  you  tell  Miss  Adare  that  I  should  like  to  speak 
to  her?" 

Rose  entered  quietly  and  took  the  chair  indicated.  The 
first  shock  of  the  morning's  discovery  had  long  passed  and 
she  had  forced  her  thoughts  back  to  her  first  meeting  with 
the  dead  woman,  striving  to  recall  some  incident  which 
might  throw  light  upon  the  tragedy.  It  came  to  her  with 
an  element  of  surprise  that  she  really  knew  very  little  about 
Mrs.  Hartshorne. 

"What  is  your  full  name,  please?"  It  was  the  pleasant- 
faced,  limping  young  man  who  addressed  her. 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS  55 

"Rose  Adare."  Her  blue  eyes  crinkled  at  the  corners. 
"I  don't  mind  your  knowing  that,  but  before  we  go  any  fur- 
ther I'd  like  to  know  who  I'm  talking  to!" 

The  Chief  chuckled  in  spite  of  himself,  but  Paul  re- 
sponded gravely: 

"I  beg  pardon.  I'm  Paul  Harvey,  a  sort  of  special 
investigator  connected  with  the  Police  Force.  This  is  Chief 
Burke."  He  waved  his  hand  toward  his  superior  and 
added:  "Now,  Miss  Adare,  you  are  a  secretary ?" 

"Visiting  social  secretary,"  she  corrected  him. 

"Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  a  regular  patron  of  yours?" 

"Since  January,  when  Mrs.  Ledyard  recommended  me  to 
her."  Rose  nodded.  "I've  been  coming  here  three  times  a 
week  and  sometimes  oftener." 

"Have  you  ever  encountered  any  house  guests  here?" 

"No,  Mr.  Harvey.  There  has  never  been  anyone  here 
except  Mrs.  Hartshorne  herself  and  the  servants." 

"You  say  a  Mrs.  Ledyard  recommended  you.  Do  you 
mean  the  wife  of  Colonel  Amasa  Ledyard?" 

"Yes.  She  is  the  leader  of  the  set  Mrs.  Hartshorne  be- 
longed to — the  smart  society  crowd  of  the  city,  you  know." 

Paul  nodded  in  his  turn. 

"And  in  that  set,  who  were  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  most  inti- 
mate friends?" 

Rose  hesitated. 

"I  don't  believe  she  had  any,"  she  ventured  at  length. 
"Mrs.  Ledyard  took  her  up  first  and  the  rest  followed  suit, 
but  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  just  friendly.  She  wasn't  es- 
pecially chummy  with  any  of  them  and  didn't  seem  to  want 
to  be,  for  beside  the  constant  invitations  to  formal  affairs 
which  I  have  written  declining  for  her,  I've  often  heard 
her  over  the  telephone,  refusing  invitations  to  little  intimate 
luncheons  and  teas  and  card  games.  She  was  always  will- 


56  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

ing  to  attend  functions  for  any  charitable  enterprise,  though, 
except  the  big  public  ones;  she'd  work  for  those,  and  send 
checks,  but  she  wouldn't  ever  go  herself.  That  Red  Cross 
dance  last  night  was  the  first  thing  of  that  kind  I've  known 
her  to  attend." 

"She  was  popular  with  the  men  of  her  set?" 

Rose  stiffened  a  trifle  in  her  chair. 

"I  really  couldn't  say.  She  was  popular  with  everybody, 
if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

"It  isn't."  Paul  halted  before  her.  "I'm  not  asking  you 
for  idle  gossip  or  possible  scandal,  Miss  Adare.  This  woman 
has  been  done  to  death;  and  in  the  interests  of  justice 
we  must  find  out  as  much  about  her  habits  and  associates 
as  we  can.  A  young  woman  in  your  position  has  unique  op- 
portunities for  observation,  and  this  is  no  time  to  split 
hairs." 

"I  realize  that,  Mr.  Harvey,  though  as  I  said  to  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  herself  only  last  Wednesday  morning,  when  she 
asked  me  if  any  of  my  other  clients  in  her  set  had  tried  to 
pump  me  about  her " 

"She  asked  that,  did  she?  the  Chief  interrupted 
sharply. 

"Yes,  sir."  Rose  turned  to  him.  "I  told  her  then  that 
social  letter  writing  was  my  specialty,  not  gossip,  and  that 
my  old  clients  well  knew  they  could  never  get  anything  out 
of  me  .  .  .  Not  that  they  haven't  tried !" 

Paul  jumped  at  the  advantage  offered  by  the  naive  ad- 
mission. 

"Who  tried?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Cowles,  for  one;  Mrs.  Bebe  Cowles.  And 
then  lately  Miss  Ledyard."  Rose  paused  and  added 
quickly:  "Of  course,  they  were  all  more  or  less  curious, 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  being  a  newcomer  and  alone,  but  there  was 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS  57 

nothing  I  could  have  told  them,  even  if  I  had  wanted  to. 
In  all  her  correspondence  I  have  never  seen  a  letter  irom 
anywhere  but  Eastopolis ;  and  then  only  the  most  formal  of 
social  notes  and  tradesmen's  receipts.  It  came  to  me  like  a 
slap  in  the  face  just  before  you  called  me  in  here,  that  I 
didn't  know  a  thing  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne!  1  hadn't 
learned  a  thing  more  about  her  private  affairs,  or  her 
people,  or  where  she  came  from,  than  I  knew  the  first  day 
1  came  to  her." 

"That  little  v-shaped  scar  near  the  corner  of  her  left 
eye ;  you  must  have  noticed  it,"  Paul  remarked  when  she 
had  paused  again  for  breath.  "Did  she  ever  offer  any  ex- 
planation of  it?" 

"Yes.  She  told  me  it  was  a  cut  from  flying  glass  in  an 
automobile  accident,  but  she  didn't  say  where.  It's  an  old 
scar,  so  it  must  have  happened  several  years  ago.  I  could 
tell  she'd  had  treatment  to  get  rid  of  it,  but  it  was  too  deep." 

"Did  you  observe  anything  else  about  her?" 

"Well,  she  had  the  most  beautiful  hands  I  ever  saw,  poor 
thing!  They  were  white  and  soft,  but  firm,  and  the  fingers 
were  long,  and  slim,  and  tapering,  and  as  strong  as  wire. 
She  had  an  odd  trick,  too,  of  curling  the  little  finger  of  her 
right  hand;  she  saw  me  noticing  it  one  day  and  said  it 
came  from  practising  on  the  piano  though  I  never  heard 
her  play.  It  was  easy  to  see  she  had  never  done  any  hard 
work,  not  even  played  athletic  games  like  golf  or  tennis." 

"Did  she  ever  seem  particularly  interested  in  any  one 
thing ;  a  fad,  or  hobby  ?" 

"Nothing  but  money."  Rose  caught  the  look  which  passed 
between  her  interrogators  and  hastily  amended  her  reply. 
"I  don't  mean  that  she  was  avaricious !  I  never  saw  a  wo- 
man so  careless  about  her  jewels ;  and  she  said  there  was 
always  a  lot  of  loose  money  in  the  house.  She  paid  my 


58  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

salary  promptly  without  any  haggling,  and  she  was  more 
than  generous,  too,  with  her  charity  subscriptions." 

"But  you  say  she  was  interested  only  in  money  ?" 

"I  meant  financial  things;  the  stock  market  was  a  kind 
of  a  passion  with  her.  I've  heard  her  'phone  her  broker, 
Colonel  Ledyard,  and  give  him  orders  for  deals  involving 
thousands  of  dollars.  For  all  she  was  gentle  and  soft  and 
womanly  she  had  a  head  for  business  that  many  a  man 
would  envy." 

"Do  you  remember  when  she  first  spoke  of  the  money 
she  kept  in  the  house?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Harvey.  It  was  on  Wednesday  morning  when 
I  found  the  revolver  under  a  pile  of  magazines  on  the  bed- 
stand,  and  nearly  jumped  out  of  my  skin !  She  laughed  and 
said  it  wasn't  loaded;  that  she  kept  it  to  frighten  burglars 
away.  That  is  how  she  came  to  mention  the  money." 

"Now,  Miss  Adare,"  Paul  returned  abruptly  to  his  first 
line  of  attack,  "there  is  one  point  which  could  not  have 
escaped  you.  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  I  understand,  was  a  widow. 
Did  she  have  any  especial  admirer  among  the  men  she  knew  ? 
Any  suitor,  let  us  say  ?" 

Rose  shook  her  head. 

"I — I  don't  know.  I  heard  gossip,  now  and  then,  among 
my  other  clients,  and  flowers  were  often  sent  to  her  while 
I  happened  to  be  here  at  different  times — sometimes  two  or 
three  separate  boxes  in  one  morning — ;  but  I  never  knew 
from  whom  they  came." 

"And  this  gossip  which  you  heard;  did  it  concern  any 
one  man  in  particular?"  Paul  insisted. 

The  girl's  square  little  chin  obtruded  itself. 

"It  was  merely  gossip,  not  scandal,  Mr.  Harvey,  and 
I'd  rather  not  say.  I  realize  thoroughly  how  serious  this 
case  is,  but  it's  all  the  more  reason  why  I  shouldn't  drag 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS  & 

anyone  into  notoriety  through  idle  talk,  to  say  nothing  of 
losing  my  best  clients." 

"You've  answered  my  questions."  Paul's  gentle  brown 
eyes  grew  swiftly  stern.  "Who  was  the  man,  Miss  Adare? 
We  won't  betray  your  confidence,  or  drag  him  into  any 
notoriety  unless  there  is  good  reason  for  it,  but  I  mean  to 
know  the  truth." 

Rose  pondered  for  a  moment  and  then  capitulated. 

"Oh,  well,  you're  bound  to  hear  it,  anyway,  from  others, 
even  if  the  papers  don't  hint  at  it ;  they're  likely  to,  for  I've 
heard  he's  been  more  attentive  than  ever  lately.  It  was  Mr. 
Cornelius  Swarthmore." 

Again  Paul  and  his  confrere  exchanged  glances,  and  the 
former  once  more  abruptly  changed  the  subject  of  his  in- 
quiry. 

"Was  it  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  maid,  Matilde,  who  first  told 
you  of  what  happened  here?" 

"She  told  me  to  look  through  the  keyhole,"  responded 
Rose  without  hesitation.  "I  did,  and  saw  for  myself,  and 
then  I  got  the  policeman!  There's  one  thing  you  may  as 
well  know,  although  I'm  not  insinuating  anything  more  than 
I'm  saying.  When  she  let  me  in  at  the  front  door,  Matilde 
told  me  she'd  been  waiting  for  me ;  and  I  could  tell  then 
by  her  eyes  that  something  was  wrong.  Afterward,  when 
I  saw  poor  Mrs.  Hartshorne  lying  there  and  asked  Matilde 
why  she  hadn't  gotten -help  at  once,  she  said  she  had  only 
looked  through  the  keyhole  herself  a  minute  before  I  came." 

"That  is  in  accordance  with  the  statement  she  has  just 
made,"  observed  Paul. 

"It  is  not  true,  nevertheless,"  Rose  returned  calmly.  "She 
had  known  it  for  hours ;  it  was  written  all  over  her !  There 
hadn't  been  any  sound  of  her  running  down  the  stairs  to 
let  me  in  when  I  rang;  my  hand  wasn't  off  the  bell  before 


60  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

the  door  was  open,  as  if  she'd  been  standing  there  just  on 
the  other  side  of  it.  Moreover,  now  that  I  think  of  it,  she 
said  I  would  know  best  what  to  do ;  that  Mrs.  Hartshorae 
might  not  have  only  fainted.  Maybe,  having  been  the  first 
to  find  her,  she  was  afraid  of  being  accused  of  knowing 
more  about  it  than  she  did." 

"Very  likely,"  commented  Paul  drily.  "You  were  here 
last  night  before  Mrs.  Hartshorne  left  to  go  out  to  dinner, 
weren't  you?" 

"Yes.  She  sent  for  me  to  write  some  notes  for  her — 
answers  to  invitations  which  required  an  immediate  reply." 

"You  said  that  flowers  frequently  came  for  her  while  you 
were  present.  Did  nothing  else  of  any  greater  value  come? 
.  .  .  Last  night,  for  instance  ?" 

Rose  eyed  the  young  man  speculatively,  and  reading  a 
partial  knowledge  in  the  significance  of  his  smile,  she  re- 
sponded : 

"Yes,  and  last  night  was  the  first  time.  Oh,  she'd  had 
books  and  candies  and  things  like  that  before,  but  never 
jewelry.  A  box  came  while  I  was  finishing  the  notes  and 
she  cried  out  in  surprise  when  she  opened  it.  I  don't 
wonder,  for  I've  never  seen  anything  so  beautiful.  No  one 
in  Eastopolis  has  anything  to  equal  it.  It  was  a  string  of 
pearls — big,  round,  perfect  ones  with  a  kind  of  a  milky 
gleam  through  them;  the  same  that  were  about  her  neck, 
poor  thing,  when  she  lay  dead  there  on  the  floor  this  morn- 
ing." 

"Did  she  mention  who  had  sent  them  to  her?" 

"No.  There  was  a  card  with  them — a  man's  card,  by 
the  narrowness  of  it;  but  I  don't  know  what  name  was  on 
it." 

Paul  paced  meditatively  across  the  room  and  back  before 
he  spoke  again. 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS  61 

"Miss  Adare,  when  you  came  on  Wednesday  morning 
did  you  notice  anything  unusual  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne? 
Any  change  in  her  from  the  time  of  yor.r  last  previous  call?" 

"Only  that  she  looked  terribly  ill.  She  said  it  was  only  a 
headache,  but  if  the  hand  of  death  had  been  on  her  then  she 
couldn't  have  been  more  white.  She  told  me  that  she  must 
look  particularly  well  for  that  afternoon,  and  I  advised  a 
touch  of  rouge." 

"Do  you  know  why  she  wanted  to  look  so  particularly 
well  that  afternoon?" 

The  girl's  hesitation  was  but  momentary. 

"Well,  she  didn't  tell  me,  Mr.  Harvey,  but  as  I  was  leav- 
ing I  heard  her  giving  orders  to  Jenny  about  a  visitor  com- 
ing for  tea."  Then,  anticipating  the  inevitable  question,  she 
added :  "Mr.  Swarthmore." 


Chapter  VI. 
THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL. 

THE  interview  with  Rose  Adare  concluded,  Chief 
Burke  departed  for  Headquarters,  leaving  Paul  to 
undertake  the  examination  of  the  Hartshorne  house. 

Dusk  had  fallen  when  the  young  man  completed  the  task 
to  his  own  satisfaction  and  at  eight  o'clock  he  presented 
himself  at  the  sanctum  of  his  superior,  who  exclaimed  aloud 
at  his  appearance. 

"Paul,  you  look  done  up!  Don't  go  at  it  too  hard,  my 
boy;  remember  the  collapse  you  had  after  the  Reuhl  case! 
Of  course,  this  is  the  biggest  thing  we've  been  called  on  to 
tackle  in  years,  but  that's  all  the  more  reason  why  you 
should  take  care  of  yourself.  I'm  banking  on  you,  the  whole 
'investigation  is  in  your  hands,  and  we  can't  afford  to  have 
you  get  sick  and  lay  down  on  the  job." 

"I  won't  lie  down  on  it,  Chief,"  Paul  assured  him  as  he 
sank  wearily  into  a  chair  and  placed  a  huge  tin  cash  box 
on  the  desk  before  him.  "You  have  arranged  about  the 
servants  ?" 

The  Chief  nodded. 

"I  did  exactly  as  you  asked.  Jenny  and  the  cook  and 
that  little  kitchen  girl  have  gone  to  their  own  homes ;  here 
are  the  addresses  if  you  want  them.  I'm  having  them 
looked  up  and  they'll  appear  at  the  inquest.  The  French 
maid,  Matilde  Benoit,  I'm  holding  for  further  examination. 
I  cleared  the  lot  of  them  out  of  the  house  after  you  left 

62 


THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL  63 

and  stationed  a  guard  there.  Where've  you  been  since  six 
o'clock?" 

"Several  places,  but  let  us  take  this  matter  up,  first." 
Paul  produced  a  key  and  unlocked  the  box.  "Here  is 
Matilde's  list  and  the  jewels  check  up  all  right  with  it; 
not  an  item  missing.  There  is  no  mention  of  the  string  of 
pearls,  but  as  it  only  arrived  last  night  she  evidently  hadn't 
time  to  add  it  to  the  catalogue.  Quite  a  collection,  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  had ;  roughly  speaking,  I  should  say  it  aggre- 
gated about  twenty  thousand  dollars,  exclusive  of  the  pearls, 
of  course.  See!  Eight  rings,  four  brooches,  a  diamond 
wrist  watch,  three  bracelets,  a  lavalliere,  two  pairs  of  ear- 
rings, and  a  diamond  lorgnette  and  chain.  They  are  not 
distinctive  in  design,  though,  and  no  one  piece  is  of  excep- 
tional value;  they  might  have  been  purchased  in  any  first 
class  jeweller's." 

He  removed  a  number  of  leather  cases  from  the  box  as 
he  spoke,  and  set  them  before  the  Chief,  who  rapidly  com- 
pared their  contents  with  the  list  in  his  hand. 

"All  here,"  he  commented,  as  he  checked  off  the  last 
article.  "If  it's  necessary  to  trace  'em  I'll  put  Lumsden  on 
it,  the  lad  who  helped  you  in  the  Van  Vrenken  case.  Did 
you  locate  all  the  loose  cash  ?" 

"I  think  so."  Paul  drew  a  huge  roll  of  bills  from  the 
receptacle  before  him.  "I've  ransacked  every  box  and  trunk 
and  drawer  in  the  house,  looked  in  every  vase  and  ornament 
and  run  through  all  the  books  on  the  library  shelves.  Un- 
less she  had  some  hidden  in  the  coal  or  on  the  roof  I've 
got  it  all ;  seven  thousand  and  two  hundred  dollars,  to  be 
exact." 

"Whew!"  whistled  the  Chief  as  he  examined  the  roll. 
"No  wonder  she  kept  a  gun  in  the  house  and  was  afraid 
of  burglars!  Why  didn't  she  bank  all  this?" 


64  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I'm  afraid  we're  going  to  ask  ourselves  a  lot  of  questions 
about  the  lady  before  we  discover  who  killed  her." 
Paul  shrugged.  "Here  are  all  the  papers  I  found  in  the 
house ;  receipted  bills,  bank  books,  memoranda  and  accounts, 
an  engagement  pad  and  a  handful  of  invitations  and  social 
letters.  Nothing  in  the  lot  that  gives  us  the  slightest  clue 
and  not  one  of  them  dates  back  before  the  sixth  of  last 
November.  The  trunks  and  barrels  in  the  store -room  con- 
tained only  packing  materials,  straw  and  excelsior;  there 
wasn't  even  an  old  newspaper  among  them." 

Chief  Burke  moved  impatiently  in  his  chair. 

"But  weren't  there  some  old  photographs  lying  around?" 

"Not  even  a  picture  of  the  lady  herself.  We  haven't 
a  shred  of  evidence  to  connect  her  with  any  other  place  on 
earth  except  the  statement  of  the  Benoit  woman  that  she 
was  engaged  from  the  Hotel  Belmonde,  in  New  York." 

"We'll  ring  them  up  now,"  the  Chief  announced,  reach- 
ing for  the  telephone,  but  his  young  colleague  stopped  him. 

"I  did,  before  I  came  down  here.  Matilde's  story  seems 
to  have  been  straight  enough.  She  or  some  woman  of  the 
same  name  and  general  appearance  was  employed  at  the 
Belmonde  as  supervisor  of  the  linen  room  when  Mrs. 
Allison  Hartshorne  arrived  there  on  October  seventh." 

"Where  did  she  register  from?"  demanded  the  Chief. 

"From  Eastopolis."  Paul  grinned  faintly  at  his  colleague's 
expression.  "Gave  me  a  bit  of  a  jolt,  too,  for  I  thought 
she  wasn't  known  here  until  six  months  ago.  She  stayed 
at  the  Belmonde  until  the  fourth  of  November,  when  she 
left,  taking  the  Benoit  woman  with  her  as  maid.  I'll  take 
a  run  on  to  New  York  if  it  proves  necessary,  but  I  think 
we're  going  to  find  the  solution  of  this  thing  right  here  in 
Eastopolis.  I've  traced  her  back  to  the  very  day  she  arrived 
in  town." 


THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL  65 

"How?"  The  Chief  eyed  him  keenly.  "If  you"  found" 
nothing  more  definite  in  the  house  than  you've  told  me " 

"Oh,  I'm  not  holding  out  on  you,  Chief  I"  laughed  Paul. 
"I  looked  up  the  real  estate  firm  who  negotiated  the  sale 
of  the  Farragut  Street  house  to  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  It  was 
Brinkerhoff  and  Hammond.  I  got  old  man  Brinkerhoff, 
the  senior  partner,  on  the  'phone  at  his  home.  He  hadn't 
any  trouble  in  recalling  the  deal  after  the  'Extras'  that  have 
been  coming  out  all  afternoon.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  bought 
the  house  late  in  November  and  moved  in  on  December 
first;  she  paid  forty  thousand  outright  for  it,  by  check  on 
the  Trust  Company  of  Eastopolis.  She  was  then  staying 
at  the  Granville  Hotel  here,  Brinkerhoff  told  me.  I  stopped 
there  on  my  way  downtown  and  found  she  had  registered 
with  her  maid  on  the  sixth  of  November,  so  she  must  have 
come  directly  from  New  York." 

"What  did  they  know  of  her  there  at  tha  Granville?" 
The  Chief  selected  a  gaudily  banded  cigar  from  the  box  at 
his  elbow  and  sat  turning  it  absently  in  his  fingers. 

"I  had  a  little  talk  with  the  manager.  He  wasn't  anxious 
to  get  the  sort  of  advertising  for  the  hotel  that  this  case 
would  give  it,  but  I  persuaded  him  he'd  better  talk  to  me." 
Paul  produced  his  own  cigarette  case  from  his  pocket.  "No 
one  called  on  her  there  at  first,  though  the  suite  of  rooms 
she  had  taken  was  suitable  for  entertaining;  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  she  was  a  total  stranger  here.  The  rector  of 
St.  George's  Church,  Dr.  Alvin  Perrine,  was  the  first  person 
to  send  up  his  card  to  her,  as  far  as  the  manager  can  re- 
member; I'll  look  the  reverend  doctor  up  later.  After  it 
was  known  that  she  had  purchased  the  Farragut  Street 
house  and  her  name  was  mentioned  in  the  papers  on  one  or 
two  charity  subscriptions  lists,  Mrs.  Amasa  Ledyard  called, 
then  several  other  society  women.  It  didn't  take  her  long, 


66  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

evidently,  to  get  a  foothold  with  the  wealthiest  people  here. 
I'm  going  to  interview  a  few  of  them  to-morrow  and  get 
a  line  on  her  if  I  can." 

"But  look  here,  Paul."  Chief  Burke  clipped  the  end  off 
his  cigar  with  an  emphatic  snap.  "That's  good  work  as 
far  as  it  goes,  but  it  don't  get  us  anywhere.  I  suppose  she 
registered  at  the  Granville  as  coming  from  New  York  ?" 

Paul  nodded. 

"There,  you  see?"  The  Chief  spread  his  hands  in  an 
eloquent  gesture.  "Got  us  running  around  in  circles  al- 
ready! We  don't  want  the  history  of  her  past  life!  We 
want  to  know  who  got  in  her  house  last  night — or  came  in 
with  her — and  shot  her  dead !" 

The  younger  man  smiled  patiently.  He  knew  of  his  old 
colleague's  intolerance  of  any  but  the  most  direct,  bull-dog 
method  of  investigation  and  forbore  to  combat  it  openly, 
although  pursuing  the  tenor  of  his  own  way  which,  as  in 
previous  cases,  had  brought  success  from  failure. 

"Of  course,"  he  assented.    "But  if  no  one  saw  her  come 

yy 

"How  do  you  know  they  didn't?"  the  other  interrupted. 

"I've  made  some  preliminary  inquiries  in  the  neighbor- 
hood," explained  Paul  mildly.  "The  house  on  the  left  of 
hers,  number  one-thirty-seven,  is  occupied  by  two  deaf  old 
maid  sisters  named  Larrabee,  with  a  butler  and  two  female 
servants.  They  all  retired  before  eleven  o'clock  and  heard 
nothing  during  the  night.  On  the  right,  number  one- forty- 
one  belongs  to  the  Wallace  Davenports ;  large  family,  oldest 
child  at  home — a  girl  of  fourteen,  two  sons  studying  avia- 
tion. Nobody  there  heard  anything,  either.  Across  the 
street  the  two  houses  directly  opposite  are  occupied,  but  the 
two  on  either  side  of  them  are  closed ;  number  one-thirty-six 
fpr  sale  arid  one- forty-two  boarded  up.  A  family  named 


THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL  67 

Fraser  lives  in  one-thirty-eight,  but  they  are  quarantined ; 
their  child  has  diphtheria.  The  Sargents  live  in  one-forty ; 
old  couple  alone  with  a  retinue  of  elderly  servants.  Their 
four  sons  are  still  in  active  service  abroad.  It  was  the  same 
story.  Nobody  saw  or  heard  anything." 

"Then  there's  only  one  thing  to  do  now."  The  Chief 
thumped  his  desk  in  exasperation.  "Find  out  what  time 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  left  the  dance  at  the  Ledyards'  and  who 
accompanied  her ;  then  put  him  through  the  third  degree !" 

"Mrs.  Ledyard  is  one  of  the  first  I  mean  to  interview  to- 
morrow," responded  Paul.  "I  don't  want  to  antagonize  her 
by  rushing  to  her  to-night.  You've  got  to  handle  these 
people  with  gloves,  you  know ;  they're  sure  of  their  position 
and  can't  be  bullied  into  any  admission  they  don't  want  to 
make  as  a  less  important  person  could  be.  There  is  only 
one  thing  in  the  world  that  all  thde  fair  weather  friends 
of  Mrs.  Hartshorne  are  thinking  of  now  and  that  is  how 
to  keep  out  of  the  notoriety  incidental  to  the  case.  If  I'm  to 
get  any  real  information  from  them  I've  got  to  go  at  it  in  a 
diplomatic  way." 

"Diplomacy  be  hanged!"  ejaculated  the  Chief.  "They 
don't  run  this  town?  I'll  subpoena  the  lot  and  haul  them 
down  to  the  inquest !" 

"And  you'll  get  from  them  a  bunch  of  doctors'  certifi- 
cates announcing  the  outbreak  of  some  mysterious  malady 
among  the  upper  classes  which  will  be  incurable  until  the 
inquest  is  over."  Paul  shook  his  head.  "Those  who  do 
appear  will  give  only  the  briefest  replies  to  the  questions  put 
to  them,  and  they'll  have  convenient  lapses  of  memory  at 
the  most  important  points.  You  said  that  the  investiga- 
tion was  in  my  hands,  Chief.  Let  me  go  it  alone  for  awhile." 

"We-ell,"  the  other  temporized.  "How  about  this  fellow 
Swarthmore  ?" 


06  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I'll  look  him  up,  of  course!"  Paul  rose.  "Leave  it  to 
me.  I've  got  a  few  more  points  to  go  into  to-night,  but  as 
soon  as  there  is  anything  to  report  you'll  hear  from  me. 
By  the  way,  you  examined  that  revolver — or  pistol,  to  give 
it  its  right  name — didn't  you  ?" 

The  Chief  stared  up  at  him  from  beneath  his  low  drawn 
brows. 

"What  are  you  getting  at,  son  ?"  he  inquired. 

"It  is  one  of  the  new  army  types  you  know,  with  an 
automatic  ejector,"  Paul  explained  blandly.  "I  don't  think 
•we  are  dealing  with  any  ordinary  murderer.  A  man  who 
•will  fire  a  shot  in  a  household  of  sleeping  women  and  then 
stop,  not  only  to  close  his  victim's  eyes  and  compose  the 
body  decently,  but  to  find  and  carry  away  the  empty  car- 
tridge shell  and  so  deliberately  contradict  the  suicide  evi- 
dence he  had  tried  to  create  by  placing  the  pistol  itself  in 
the  dead  woman's  hands ; — well,  unless  we  are  on  the  trail 
of  a  madman  I  think  we  will  have  our  work  cut  out  for  us." 

"The  cartridge  shell!"  repeated  the  Chief.  "By  Gad, 
.that's  one  on  me !  It  must  be  in  the  room  somewhere !" 

"It  isn't,"  Paul  asserted  as  he  picked  up  his  hat  and 
turned  to  the  door.  "I've  gone  over  every  inch  of  it,  and 
the  hall,  too,  thinking  the  shell  might  have  rolled  or  been 
kicked  out  there ;  but  nothing  doing.  You'll  hear  from  me 
to-morrow,  Chief.  Good  night." 

Leaving  his  colleague  gaping  after  him  in  wordless 
astonishment,  Paul  made  his  way  to  the  street  and  hailed  a 
passing  taxi. 

"Number  twenty-nine  Cardinal  Street."  As  he  flung 
the  address  at  the  chauffeur  and  shut  the  door  upon  himself 
all  weariness  and  fatigue  seemed  to  have  fallen  from  him. 
He  sat  leaning  forward,  alertly  watching  the  string  of  lights 
dance  past.  The  Chief  had  been  right  in  one  observation 


THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL  69 

at  least;  the  next  step  in  the  investigation  must  be  to  dis- 
cover with  whom  Mrs.  Hartshorne  left  the  Ledyard  resi- 
dence, and  when. 

"Is  Mrs.  Gaylor  at  home?"  he  demanded  of  the  super- 
cilious butler  when  he  had  reached  his  destination. 

The  latter  looked  somewhat  dubiously  from  the  card  on 
his  salver  to  the  young  man.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"Mrs.  Gaylor  can  see  no  one,"  he  announced  at  length, 
chillingly.  "She  has  nothing  whatever  to  say " 

"I  am  not  a  representative  of  the  press,"  Paul  interrupted 
him  brusquely.  "Please  say  that  this  is  a  matter  of  the  ut- 
most importance.  If  not  Mrs.  Gaylor,  then  I  must  see  a 
member  of  her  immediate  family." 

His  manner  brooked  no  denial.  The  butler,  after  another 
appraising  glance,  turned  upon  his  heel  and  disappeared 
up  the  stairs.  A  subdued  murmur  of  voices,  as  if  raised 
in  discussion,  came  to  Paul's  ears,  and  several  minutes 
passed  before  the  butler  returned  and  reluctantly  ushered 
him  into  a  small  reception  room  at  the  right  of  the  hall. 

Paul  seated  himself,  but  scarcely  had  he  done  so  when 
hasty  footsteps  sounded  upon  the  stairs  and  a  chubby, 
round-eyed  young  man  with  a  suspicion  of  down  upon  his 
upper  lip  and  palpable  nervousness  in  his  manner  appeared 
in  the  doorway. 

"My  mother  is  indisposed,"  he  announced.  "Is  there 
anything  that  I  can  do  for  you?  I  am  Frederic  Gaylor." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Gaylor ;  I  won't  detain  you  long."  Paul 
bowed.  "My  name  is  on  the  card  which  you  are  holding; 
but  I  should  add  that  I  am  from  Police  Headquarters." 

"Police?"  The  youthful  Freddie  started  like  a  frightened 
colt.  Then,  with  an  assumption  of  dignity,  he  drew  him- 
self up  and  demanded :  "What  is  your  business  here  ?" 

"Simply  to  ask  you  a  few  questions,  Mr.  Gaylor.     Of 


70  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

course,  you  need  not  answer  them  if  you  prefer  not  to  do 
so,  but  I  am  in  charge  of  the  investigation  into  the — er, 
sudden  death  of  Mrs.  Allison  Hartshorne,  and  it  occurred 
to  me  that  her  friends  would  like  to  cooperate  with  me  in 
avoiding  as  much  notoriety  as  possible." 

"Notoriety?  Lord,  yes!"  Freddie  groaned.  "That's 
what  has  broken  mother  all  up — Mrs.  Hartshorne's  death, 
I  mean,  of  course,  I  really  don't  know  why  we  should  be 
dragged  into  it,  we  know  absolutely  nothing " 

"You  will  realize,  however,  that  it  is  imperative  for  us 
to  trace  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  movements  last  evening,"  Paul 
interrupted  him  suavely.  "She  is  known  to  have  dined  here. 
If  you  will  answer  my  questions  frankly  it  may  obviate  the 
necessity  of  Mrs.  Gaylor's  taking  the  witness  stand  at  the 
inquest." 

"Witness  stand!  The  mater?"  Freddie's  eyes  goggled 
with  horror.  "It  would  kill  her!  Of  course  I'll  tell  you 
what  little  I  know ;  that  is,  if  you  really  are  from  the 
police.  I've  been  fooled  twice  to-day  by  reporters." 

Paul  displayed  his  credentials  from  the  Chief,  then 
launched  his  first  question  briskly. 

"What  time  did  Mrs.  Hartshorne  arrive  last  evening?" 

"At  a  quarter  to  eight ;  we  dined  at  eight,  you  know." 

"Who  else  was  present?" 

"Just  the  Wadleighs  and  the  Harringtons  and  my  father 
and  mother ;  we  all  went  on  together  afterward  to  the  Led- 
yards'  Red  Cross  dance." 

"Did  you  all  leave  there  together?" 

"No.  The  Wadleighs  went  home  early — couldn't  stand 
the  crush — and  the  Harringtons  stayed  later  than  we  did. 
Mother  had  suggested  to  Mrs.  Hartshorne  at  dinner  that 
I  take  her  home,  but  she  had  promised  someone  else,  she 
didn't  say  whom," 


THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL  71 

"At  what  time  did  you  reach  the  dance,  Mr.  Gaylor?" 

"It  couldn't  have  been  much  before  half-past  ten;  we 
only  wanted  to  put  in  an  appearance  for  an  hour  or  two.  I 
danced  the  first  dance  with  her."  Freddie's  round  cheeks 
paled.  "Godl  Think  of  it!  And  in  a  little  while  she  was 
dead!" 

"Did  her  manner  seem  quite  as  usual  during  the  eve- 
ning?" 

"Well,  no!"  Freddie  hesitated.  "I  understand  what  you 
mean,  of  course,  but  it  was  quite  the  other  way  around,  I 
assure  you.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  couldn't  have  had  the  slight- 
est premonition  of — of  what  was  going  to  happen  later,  for 
she  was  more  light-hearted  and  gay  than  I  have  ever  seen 
her." 

"After  that  first  dance  with  her  did  you  observe  who  her 
later  partners  were?" 

"Oh,  everyone  in  our  set  crowded  around,  of  course, 
and  her  card  was  filled  in  a  twinkling."  The  young  man 
shifted  nervously  in  his  chair. 

"With  whom  did  she  dance  immediately  after  you?" 

"She  didn't  dance;  she  sat  it  out."  A  faint  twinkle 
lighted  Freddie's  eyes  for  a  moment.  "Old  Wendle  Brad- 
dock  isn't  keen  on  the  light  fantastic." 

"So  Mr.  Braddock  was  her  next  partner.  And  after 
him?" 

"I — I  really  couldn't  say.  There  was  a  fearful  crush  in 
the  ballroom,  you  know.  I  caught  an  occasional  glimpse  of 
her  during  the  next  hour,  but  I  don't  remember  seeing  her 
after  that." 

"The  next  hour,"  repeated  Paul  meditatively.  "That 
would  be  about  half -past  eleven,  wouldn't  it?  What  time 
was  the  supper  served?" 

"At  midnight." 


72  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"And  you  did  not  see  her  then?" 

Freddie  squirmed. 

"I  don't  remember;  I  don't  think  I  did.  I  was  seated  at 
a  corner  table,  anyway,  facing  the  wall,  and  I  didn't  give 
more  than  a  casual  glance  around  at  the  supper  room." 

"With  whom  were  you  seated?" 

"Mrs.  Cowles  and  the  Harringtons." 

Paul  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  abruptly  shot  the 
question : 

"Was  Mr.  Cornelius  Swarthmore  among  those  who 
crowded  around  after  the  first  dance,  to  greet  Mrs.  Harts- 
home?" 

Freddie's  immaculate  shirt  front  crackled  with  the  sharp 
intake  of  his  breath. 

"I  suppose  so ;  I  don't  think  I  noticed " 

"Mr.  Gaylor!"  Paul  rose.  "As  I  told  you,  my  only 
object  in  coming  here  was  to  avoid  bringing  unpleasant 
notoriety  upon  anyone,  but  if  you  prefer  to  wait  until  the 
inquest ?" 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  pick  on  me!"  broke  in 
Freddie  sulkily.  "I  don't  want  to  be  made  out  a  cad  by 
dragging  others  fellows'  names  into  a  mess  of  this  sort! 
Why  don't  you  ask  Swarthmore  yourself?" 

Paul  replied  to  the  question  with  another. 

"There  is  a  special  reason,  then,  why  you  are  reluctant 
to  mention  Mr.  Swarthmore  in  connection  with  Mrs.  Harts- 
home?" 

"Certainly  not !"  A  dull  red  crept  over  Freddie's  rotund 
countenance  and  he  added  in  naive  haste :  "You'll  find  it  out 
anyway,  I  suppose.  It's  been  common  talk  in  our  set  for 
weeks  that  he  was  more  than  usually  interested  in  Mrs. 
Hartshorne ;  I  presume  you  knew  it  already  or  you  wouldn't 
have  brought  his  name  up. — Yes,  he  was  one  of  the  first 


THE  CARTRIDGE  SHELL  73 

to  ask  for  a  dance.  And  he  seemed  surprised  and  hurt 
when  she  put  him  off.  They  had  a  little  playful  quarrel 
about  it,  as  I  remember." 

"Did  you  see  them  together  later?" 

"No.  Swarthmore  left  in  about  an  hour;  at  least,  I  saw 
him  making  his  way  to  the  cloakroom." 

"Did  you  speak  to  him?" 

"No.  I  was  seated  on  the  stairs  with — with  a  young  lady, 
when  he  came  out  from  the  ball-room  and  made  a  dive 
through  the  crush." 

"As  if  he  were  in  a  hurry?" 

Beads  of  perspiration  stood  now  on  Freddie's  brow. 

"No!  As  if  he  were  furiously  angry,  if  you  want  to 
know!  But  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne, 
I'm  sure." 

"What  makes  you  certain,  Mr.  Gaylor?" 

"Because  in  the  ballroom  doorway  he  collided  with 
Wendle  Braddock.  They  meet  civilly  enough,  as  a  rule, 
when  social  exigencies  demand  it,  although  they've  fought 
each  other  financially  tooth  and  nail.  But  last  night " 

"Last  night —  ?"  prompted  Paul  as  the  young  man  faltered. 

"Well,  Neely  Swarthmore  has  a  brute  of  a  temper,  you 
know.  It's  common  knowledge  that  he  once  beat  one  of  his 
polo  ponies  to  death  for  a  misplay.  Possibly  an  incident 
occurred  between  them  in  a  business  way  yesterday  to  add 
the  last  straw  to  his  enmity!  At  any  rate,  when  Wendle 
Braddock  shouldered  him  in  the  jam  at  the  ball-room  door 
something  seemed  to  flame  right  up  into  his  face.  I  thought 
for  a  moment  he  was  going  to  forget  Braddock's  age  and 
where  they  were,  and  strike  the  older  man.  But  he  didn't ; 
after  that  flash  of  rage  he  just  threw  back  his  head  and 
laughed  in  Braddock's  face.  A  nasty,  sneering  laugh! 
Then  he  bolted." 


74  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"And  Mr.  Braddock?" 

"He  acted  as  though  he  didn't  even  see  him.  Whatever 
the  deal  was,  Braddock  must  have  gotten  the  best  of  it,  for 
he  went  about  beaming  on  everybody  last  night,  more 
pompous  than  ever  and  exultant,  like  a  sort  of  side-whis- 
kered Monte  Cristo." 

"You  did  not  actually  see  Mr.  Swarthmore  depart?" 

"No.  I'm  not  hedging  now,  Mr.  Harvey.  I  don't  even 
know  that  he  went  to  the  cloakroom,  only  in  that  direction ; 
he  was  swallowed  up  in  the  crush." 

"Did  you  see  Mrs.  Hartshorne  after  that?  Was  she  still 
as  unaffectedly  light-hearted? 

Freddie  gazed  wide-eyed  at  his  interrogator  and  his  voice 
sank  to  a  whisper. 

"No.    I  did  not  see  Mrs.  Hartshorne  again." 


Chapter  VII. 
LIES. 

«  A  string  of  pearls,  I  think  you  said?"  Mr.  Webster, 
f-\  senior  member  of  the  firm  of  Webster  and  Weil, 

•*•  -^  jewelers,  took  off  his  glasses,  wiped  them 
methodically  on  a  small  square  of  cloth  and  replacing  them, 
stared  hard  at  the  young  man  with  the  ingratiating  smile 
who  stood  before  him  in  his  private  office.  "Sold  on  Thurs- 
day last?" 

"Delivered  on  Thursday."  The  smile  faded  abruptly  as 
Paul  added:  "Mr.  Webster,  you  cannot  pretend  that  a 
transaction  of  such  magnitude  has  slipped  your  mind! 
Thirty-odd  thousand  dollars  is  not  paid  every  day  for  a 
bauble  even  in  such  an  establishment  as  yours.  Harry 
Donnell,  one  of  your  special  messengers,  is  known  to  have 
delivered  it  at  the  Farragut  Street  house  at  half-past  six  on 
that  day,  and  the  case  in  which  it  came  has  your  firm  name 
stamped  on  the  satin  lining  of  the  cover.  That  string  of 
pearls  was  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  neck  when  her  body 
was  discovered.  I  want  to  know  who  purchased  them." 

Mr.  Webster  stroked  his  chin  reflectively. 

"You  place  me  in  an  extremely  difficult  position,  Mr.— 
er — Harvey  is  the  name? — extremely  difficult!"  he  said 
at  last.  "Much  of  our  business  is  of  a  semi-confidential 
nature,  and  especially  under  these  tragic  circumstances — 
our  client  would  be  highly  incensed " 

"Not  half  as  incensed  as  you  will  find  the  Chief  of 

75 


76  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

Police,  if  you  attempt  to  withhold  information  from  him,"1 
Paul  interrupted  blandly.  "The  next  time  a  thief  like  Van 
Vrenken  succeeds  in  substituting  spurious  stones  for  your 
best  diamonds  under  the  very  eyes  of  your  shop  detectives 
you  will  not  find  it  so  easy  to  enlist  the  aid  of  the  Depart- 
ment." 

Mr.  Webster's  bald  head  turned  a  delicate  pink. 

"Van  Vrenken?"  He  stammered.  "But  Chief  Burke  as- 
sured me  that  our  having  been  among  those  duped  by  that 
rascal  should  be  kept  secret !  The  reputation  of  our  house 
depends  upon  it!  How  do  you  come  to  know ?" 

"Simply  because  I  happened  to  be  the  man  who  caught 
Van  Vrenken,"  replied  Paul  with  a  touch  of  impatience. 

"You?"  The  jeweler's  manner  changed  swiftly.  "My 
dear  sir !  Why  didn't  you  say  so  at  first  ?  Any  favor  that 
I  can  grant  you,  under  these  circumstances " 

He  slid  from  his  chair  and  waddled  over  to  the  safe  built 
into  the  opposite  wall.  He  took  from  it  a  ledger  almost  as 
portly  as  himself. 

"If  a  sale  was  made  such  as  you  describe,"  he  said,  "it 
will  have  been  recorded  here.  Our  client  will  look  to  us, 
naturally,  to  keep  the  transaction  confidential;  but  if  the 
Police  compel  us  to  produce  our  books  we  have  of  course 
no  choice  in  the  matter.  On  this  page,  Mr.  Harvey." 

With  an  inward  smile  at  his  informant's  sophistry,  Paul 
bent  over  the  ledger  and  ran  his  finger  down  the  column  of 
figures.  They  ranged  in  amount  from  a  few  dollars  well 
up  into  the  hundreds,  but  not  until  he  had  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  page  did  he  find  recorded  any  sum  approxi- 
mating that  which  he  sought.  The  final  entry  was  thirty- 
two  thousand  dollars,  and  after  a  quick  glance  at  the  article 
listed  and  the  name  of  the  purchaser,  Paul  closed  the 
ledger. 


LIES  77 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Webster,"  he  said  quietly,  "that  is  all 
I  wanted  to  know." 

Out  in  the  flood  of  spring  sunshine  once  more,  Paul 
made  his  way  to  the  Ledyard  residence  as  if  in  a  daze. 
Frederic  Gaylor's  statement  on  the  previous  evening  had 
received  surprising  confirmation.  Several  points  that  had 
eluded  the  detective  were  now  plain  to  him,  but  the  new 
phase  led  to  a  chain  of  reasoning  he  was  not  prepared  to 
accept. 

The  argument  he  had  used  at  the  Gaylor's  had  evidently 
preceded  him  with  good  effect,  for  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
gaining  an  audience  with  Mrs.  Ledyard.  Indeed,  that  lady 
descended  to  the  drawing-room  with  a  promptitude  which 
hinted  that  his  call  had  not  been  unanticipated. 

"This  is  a  most  frightful  thing,  Mr.  Harvey!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "I  do  hope  you  will  be  able  to  keep  us  all  out 
of  it!  Of  course  I  need  not  assure  you  that  we  know 
nothing  of  the  shocking  affair  except  what  we  have  read 
in  the  papers,  but  the  fact  that  the  woman  was  received  here 
as  a  guest  in  my  home  will  bring  the  most  disgraceful 
notoriety  about  our  ears !" 

"Not  necessarily,  Mrs.  Ledyard,"  demurred  Paul.  "Mrs. 
Hartshorne  was  received  by  practically  all  the  best  people 
in  town.  They  must  share  with  you  what  publicity  may 
come — although  I  understand  you  wtre  her  social 
sponsor " 

"By  no  means !"  she  corrected  him  in  haste.  "Dr.  Perrine 
was  responsible  for  her  introduction  to  society  here.  She 
appeared  at  chuch,  made  lavish  contributions  to  charity,  and 
conducted  herself  in  every  way  as  if  she  were  quite  our 
sort.  Dr.  Perrine  positively  urged  me  to  call  upon  her,  and 
so  did  my  husband ;  she  had  started  to  operate  extensively 
on  the  stock  market  through  him  and  had  placed 'a  substan- 


78  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

tial  amount  of  capital  in  the  Trust  Company  of  Eastopolis 
through  our  old  friend  President  Braddock.  When  I 
learned  that  she  had  purchased  a  home  here  and  intended 
to  settle  down  among  us  I  felt  it  my  Christian  duty  to  call. 
If  others  of  our  set  followed  my  example  that  was  no  affair 
of  mine;  I  did  not  introduce  her!" 

"Nevertheless  I  was  given  to  understand  you  were  Mrs. 
Hartshorne's  friend,"  Paul  asserted  significantly.  "Just 
because  the  lady  has  had  the  misfortune  to  be  murdered  it 
does  not  necessarily  follow  that  she  is  guilty  of  any  crime 
on  the  social  calendar." 

"It  will  be  a  lesson  to  me,  however,  not  to  take  up  any- 
one else  of  whom  I  know  nothing !"  Mrs.  Ledyard  retorted. 
"The  motive  was  not  robbery,  and  it  is  sure  to  prove  to 
have  been  something  disgraceful!  I  cannot  think  why  we 
should  all  have  been  so  blind!  Of  course,  Mr.  Harvey,  I 
should  not  speak  so  candidly  to  anyone  else,  but  we  are  at 
your  mercy  and  I  feel  that  absolute  frankness  is  our  best 
course.  I  did  give  Mrs.  Hartshorne  the  cachet  of  my  ap- 
proval, I  was  among  the  first  to  open  my  home  to  her  and 
I  do  not  want  to  make  myself  ridiculous  by  admitting  my 
mistake  now  to  the  world.  It  is  a  most  deplorable  situa- 
tion!" 

"A  most  unusual  one,"  he  amended.  "Is  it  possible  that 
in  all  your  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne  she  told  you 
nothing  of  her  life,  gave  you  no  inkling  whatever  of  the 
past?" 

"Not  a  syllable,"  Mrs.  Ledyard  replied  impressively. 
"It  is  almost  incredible,  I  know,  but  she  slipped  into  our 
lives  here  with  so  seemingly  little  effort  that  before  we 
realized  it  she  was  quite  one  of  us.  My  daughter  was  right ; 
Dr.  Perrine  should  have  looked  into  the  woman's  ante- 
cedents most  carefully  before  he  foisted  her  upon  us !  But 


LIES  79 

he  was  so  sure  that  there  could  be  no  question  about  her. 
And  President  Braddock,  also,  when  the  discussion  arose 
assumed  such  an  unqualified  stand  in  her  favor  that  the 
significance  of  her  reticence  about  the  past  did  not  appeal 
to  me  as  forcibly  as  it  should  have  done.  Then,  too,  I  am 
quite  willing  to  admit  that  her  charm  of  manner  wholly  dis- 
armed me  from  the  first." 

"Mrs.  Ledyard,  when  did  this  discussion  take  place?" 

Realizing  her  slip  she  hesitated,  biting  her  lips. 

"I — I  really  couldn't  say,  Mr.  Harvey.  Some  little  time 
ago." 

"Can  you  remember  where  it  occurred?"  At  the  hint 
of  polite  sarcasm  in  his  tone  she  reddened. 

"Here  in  my  own  drawing-room.  It  was  after  a  small 
informal  dinner — "  Mrs.  Ledyard  paused. 

"Who  was  present?" 

"Really,  I — I  cannot  remember!"  She  drew  herself  up 
majestically.  "I  do  not  see  the  pertinence  of  your  ques- 
tions, Mr.  Harvey !  A  mere,  idle  conversation  in  my  home, 
among  my  family  and  an  immediate  friend  or  two,  can  have 
no  bearing  on  the  affair  you  are  investigating." 

"Perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  assist  your  memory,"  Paul 
suggested,  ignoring  her  protests.  "Your  daughter,  Dr. 
Perrine,  President  Braddock  and  yourself  you  have  already 
mentioned  as  having  taken  part  in  this  discussion.  It  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  your  husband  also  was  present. 
Who  else?" 

"Mrs.  Cowles."  The  response  came  unwillingly  enough. 
"Mr.  Harvey,  I  simply  must  decline  to  pursue  the  sub- 
ject  " 

"We  will  drop  it  if  you  insist."  He  assured  her  quietly. 
"Dr.  Perrine  and  President  Braddock  will  doubtless  be  able 
to  recall  the  incident  if  subpoenaed  for  the  inquest •" 


8o  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I  cannot  imagine  why  you  attach  such  extraordinary 
importance  to  so  trivial  a  circumstance !"  Mrs.  Ledyard  in- 
terrupted indignantly.  "I  understood  your  object  in  coming 
here  was  to  aid  us  in  avoiding  notoriety,  not  to  thrust  it  upon 
us!  We  none  of  us  know  anything  whatever  of  Mrs. 
Hartshorne;  an  expression  of  personal  opinion  concerning 
her  cannot  be  construed  as  evidence  against  us!  Surely 
you  are  not  mad  enough  to  think  that  we  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  woman's  death !" 

"No.  But  your  coterie  is  a  representative  one,  Mrs.  Led- 
yard," he  explained  suavely.  "A  concensus  of  opinion  ex- 
pressed here  will  enable  me  to  gauge  the  attitude  of  the 
rest  with  whom  Mrs.  Hartshorne  came  in  social  contact. 
That  is  important.  Surely  you  can  remember  now  when 
this  conversation  took  place !  Do  you  frequently  bring  to- 
gether just  these  three  guests  in  particular?" 

"No,  it  was  quite  informal  Mrs.  Hartshorne  herself 
dropped  in  later  with  Mr.  Swarthmore  for  a  game  of  bridge, 
but  they  did  not  stay,  as  Mrs.  Hartshorne  complained  of  a 
headache."  She  paused  and  added  with  obvious  reluctance. 
"It  was  last  Tuesday  evening." 

"And  who  started  the  discussion?"  Paul  gave  no  evi- 
dence of  the  significance  her  admission  held  for  him. 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea.    I  really  paid  little  attention." 

"Was  it  not  your  daughter?  If  Dr.  Perrine  and  President 
Braddock  took  issue  with  her " 

"My  daughter  was  wholly  indifferent  to  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne! From  the  first  she  has  maintained  the  merest 
acquaintanceship  with  her,"  Mrs.  Ledyard  interrupted  in 
unguarded  haste.  "She  happened  to  ask  Dr.  Perrine  what 
church  Mrs.  Hartshorne  attended  before  coming  here  and 
when  he  professed  ignorance  she  remarked  upon  the  fact 
of  how  little  we  really  knew  of  this  woman  whom  we  had 


LIES  81 

accepted  without  social  or  financial  credentials.  That  is 
really  all  there  was  to  it,  Mr.  Harvey,  and  if  you  want  the 
concensus  of  opinion,  in  which  I  must  admit  I  shared,  it 
was  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  despite  her  reticence  was  a 
worthy  and  welcome  addition  to  our  community." 

"She  did  vouchsafe  the  fact  that  she  was  a  widow,  did 
she  not?" 

Mrs.  Ledyard  sighed  in  audible  relief  at  the  change  of 
topic. 

"Yes,  and  she  intimated  to  me  that  her  married  life  had 
not  been  an  unqualifiedly  happy  one.  I  don't  know  how  I 
gathered  the  impression — certainly  not  in  as  many  words 
from  her — but  I  fancied  that  her  husband  was  much  older 
than  she,  and  somewhat  of  a  care.  I  inferred  that  they 
had  traveled  a  great  deal,  presumably  for  his  health.  That 
is  really  all  I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Harvey." 

"Did  you  see  her  between  Tuesday  evening  and  your  Red 
Cross  dance  on  Thursday?" 

"Yes.  I  met  her  at  the  dedication  of  the  playground  for 
the  children  of  St.  George's  church  on  Thursday  afternoon. 
I  was  with  Dr.  Perrine,  and  she  merely  stopped  to  chat  for 
a  moment." 

"She  was  wearing  a  mole-skin  cape  coatee,  was  she  not?" 

"Yes."  Mrs.  Ledyard  glanced  up  in  surprise.  "I  re- 
marked upon  it,  for  the  day  was  unusually  balmy,  but  she 
said  she  had  felt  a  slight  chill." 

"She  gave  no  evidence  of  it  when  she  came  to  the  dance 
in  the  evening  with  the  Gaylors,  did  she?" 

"No.  She  looked  remarkably  well.  They  came  late,  and 
in  the  crush  of  of  outsiders  to  be  taken  care  of  I  did  not 
think  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne  again  after  the  first  greeting." 

"You  do  not  know  when  she  left  ?  She  did  not  take  leave 
of  you?" 


82  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"How  could  she?  If  you  could  imagine  the  crowd,  Mr. 
Harvey!  The  house  was  packed  to  the  doors!  I  did  not 
even  catch  a  glimpse  of  many  of  my  personal  friends  whom 
I  know  were  here.  It  was  a  charity  affair  and  I  had  my 
hands  full  keeping  everything  running  smoothly." 

"Are  you  sure  you  did  not  see  her  in  the  supper  room? 
Please  think  carefully,  Mrs.  Ledyard;  it  is  of  the  utmost 
importance." 

"Quite  sure,"  the  lady  asserted  in  evident  sincerity 
after  a  moment's  thought.  "I  cannot  recall  seeing  her 
again." 

And  with  this  Paul  Harvey  was  forced  to  be  content. 
Promising  to  shield  Mrs.  Ledyard  and  her  family  as  far  as 
was  possible  from  the  publicity  incidental  to  the  tragedy,  he 
took  his  departure  and  made  his  way  to  the  imposing  apart- 
ment house  where  Mrs.  Cowles  had  established  herself. 

It  was  evident  that  no  fear  of  notoriety  actuated  her 
prompt  reception  of  him.  A  lively  interest  sparkled  in  her 
eyes  and  she  held  out  her  hand  with  gushing  warmth. 

"I've  heard  of  you,  Mr.  Harvey;  Mrs.  Bainbridge  told 
me  all  about  the  marvelously  clever  young  man  who  re- 
covered her  tiara  from  that  notorious  diamond  thief;  what 
was  his  name?  I  know  you've  come  to  ask  me  about  Mrs. 
Hartshorne,  but  I  don't  know  anything ;  I  only  wish  I  did ! 
I'm  simply  dying  of  curiosity!  Do  sit  down  and  tell  me 
if  you've  discovered  anything?" 

Paul  smiled. 

"I  sympathize  with  you,  Mrs.  Cowles;  I'm  curious,  too. 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  seems  to  have  been  quite  a  person  of 
mystery." 

"Well,  it's  a  mystery  to  me  how  she  ever  succeeded  in 
pulling  the  wool  over  Mrs.  Ledyard's  eyes !  If  your  right 
puts  a  large  enough  check  in  the  collection,  plate  I 


LIES  83 

don't  think  Dr.  Perrine  bothers  very  much  about  what  your 
left  hand  may  be  doing,  but  Mrs.  Ledyard  usually  looks  out 
for  that.  We  always  follow  her  lead,  you  know;  saves  us 
a  lot  of  trouble  to  discriminate.  I  suppose  she  is  simply 
wild  now  to  think  what  a  fool  she  has  made  of  herself!" 
Bebe  gurgled  joyously.  "I  rather  fancy  she  won't  be  per- 
mitted to  forget  it  very  quickly!  Personally,  I  liked  Mrs. 
Hartshorne,  but  I  found  her  a  trifle  dull,  and  so  goody- 
goody;  that  ought  to  have  made  me  suspect  her,  it  wasn't 
natural.  However,  I  thought  it  was  only  a  pose  to  attract 
the  men.  Heaven  knows,  it  worked,  if  it  was !  There  wasn't 
any  age  limit  to  her  draft,  from  Freddie  Gaylor  to  old  Mr. 
Braddock!" 

"But  I  understand  someone  did  voice  a  suspicion  of  her 
antecedents,  and  that  very  recently,"  Paul  remarked.  "Do 
you  remember  a  conversation  at  the  Ledyards'  last  Tuesday 
evening  ?" 

Bebe's  eyes  opened  wide. 

"You  mean  that  outburst  of  Trix — Miss  Ledyard's? 
Oh,  nobody  took  that  seriously!" 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  Mrs.  Ledyard  wouldn't  admit  the  possibility  of 
her  having  made  a  mistake  in  taking  up  Mrs.  Hartshorne. 
She  was  bound  to  stand  by  her,  and  the  men  were  all  pre- 
judiced in  her  favor." 

"And  you,  Mrs.  Cowles?" 

"It  did  seem  rather  odd,  when  Miss  Ledyard  put  it  to 
us  so  strongly,  that  we  hadn't  even  attempted  to  find  out 
anything  about  her,  but  I  never  gave  it  another  thought 
until  the  'Extras'  came  out  about  the  murder." 

"What  cause  had  Miss  Ledyard  for  her  suspicion  of  Mrs. 
Hartshorne?"  Paul  bent  slightly  forward.  "Can  you  re* 
call  in  just  what  words  she  expressed  her  doubts?" 


04  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Oh,  she  said  we  had  all  taken  Mrs.  Hartshorne  on  blind 
trust  merely  because  she  had  a  Madonna  face,  an  ingra- 
tiating manner  and  ready  cash."  Bebe  shrugged.  "She 
didn't  mean  anything,  really.  I  don't  believe  Trixy  had  an 
idea  in  her  head  that  there  might  actually  be  something — 
well,  a  little  queer,  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  You  know  how 
it  is  when  a  person  is  jealous ;  they  just  want  to  start  some- 
thing." 

Bebe  had  spoken  in  unguarded  candor,  forgetful,  for  the 
moment,  of  the  identity  of  her  visitor,  but  Paul's  inscrutable 
face  betrayed  nothing  of  the  surprise  her  idle  disclosure  had 
caused  him. 

So  Beatrice  Ledyard  had  been  jealous  of  the  dead 
woman !  There  were  only  two  men  whose  names  had  been 
mentioned  as  being  other  than  the  merest  acquaintances  of 
Mrs.  Hartshorne.  It  was  inconceivable  that  Miss  Ledyard 
could  have  resented  the  elderly  Mr.  Braddock's  chivalrous 
attention  to  the  newcomer.  He  tried  a  shot  in  the  dark. 

"But  Mr.  Swarthmore ?" 

"Oh,  Neely  Swarthmore  is  a  beast!"  Bebe  shuddered. 
"Trixy  was  well  rid  of  him,  if  she  only  knew  it;  I  think 
her  pride  was  hurt  more  than  anything  else  to  think  a 
quiet,  dove-eyed,  designing  widow  should  come  along  and 
take  him  away  from  her.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  walked  in  at 
the  Ledyards'  right  in  the  midst  of  that  conversation,  you 
know,  and  Mr.  Swarthmore  was  with  her.  Trixy  took  the 
bit  in  her  teeth,  so  to  speak,  and  right  there  and  then  com- 
menced to  question  Mrs.  Hartshorne  about  where  she  had 
lived  before  coming  here.  She  received  only  evasive  re- 
plies, of  course,  until  Mrs.  Hartshorne  developed  a  sudden 
headache  and  went  home." 

"They  had  come  to  fill  in  at  bridge,  had  they  not,  she  and 
Mr.  Swarthmore?" 


LIES  85 

"Yes.  It  was  quite  too  bad  of  Trixy  to  spoil  the  eve- 
ning, for  there  was  always  a  chance  for  excitement  when 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  played;  she  had  the  oddest  streaks  of 
luck  I've  ever  seen." 

"In  what  way?"  Paul  glanced  up  quickly.  "She  wa* 
not  a  consistent  player,  you  mean?" 

"On  the  contrary.  Her  play  was  steady  enough  and  in 
our  baby,  cent-a-point  games  her  winnings  were  on  an 
average  with  the  rest  of  us.  It  was  only  when  we  played 
occasionally  for  high  stakes  that  the  cards  seemed  to  run 
for  her.  She  held  the  most  phenomenal  hands ;  tricky  ones, 
too,  but  she  plunged  on  them  and  invariably  won.  Her 
finessing  was  marvelous.  Why,  if  she  had  actually  known 
what  cards  lay  in  each  of  her  opponent's  hands  she  couldn't 
have  led  more  surely.  You've  heard,  of  course,  of  her 
brilliant  coups  on  the  stock  market?  She  certainly  had 
gambler's  luck,  although  it  deserted  her  in  the  end,  didn't 
it?" 

Paul  nodded  gravely. 

"You  were  present  at  the  Ledyards*  Red  Cross  dance?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  a  revelation,  simply  stun- 
ning!" Bebe  caught  herself  up  with  a  sharp  intake  of  her 
breath.  A  deep  flush  brought  out  the  rouge  upon  her 
cheeks  in  dabs  of  meretricious  pink  and  a  look  of  startled, 
belated  caution  crept  into  her  ingenuous  eyes. 

Paul  was  as  instantly  on  the  alert  as  though  her  mental 
processes  were  exposed  to  his  searching  gaze.  Mrs.  Cowles 
had  been  utterly  unconscious  of  the  insignificance  of  her 
admissions  against  her  bosom  friend  Beatrice  Ledyard,  yet 
the  mention  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  presence  at  the  dance 
had  put  her  instinctively  on  her  guard.  She  was  thinking 
not  of  her  friend  now  but  of  herself.  What  had  occurred 


86  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

at  the  Ledyards'  that  night  which  for  her  own  sake  she 
must  conceal? 

"You  arrived  before  Mrs.  Hartshorne?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.  She  came  with  the  Gaylors."  Her  brief  reply 
was  in  marked  contrast  to  her  previous  loquacity. 

"Mr.  Swarthmore  had  also  preceded  her?" 

"Yes.    The  Gaylor  party  was  among  the  last  to  arrive." 

"Did  you  have  any  conversation  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne  ?" 

"No,  I  merely  nodded  to  her.  The  crush  was  awful." 
Bebe  stirred  uneasily. 

"Were  you  near  her  at  any  time  during  the  evening,  Mrs. 
Cowles?" 

There  was  a  perceptible  pause  before  she  responded  in 
low,  hurried  tones: 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  I — I  didn't  observe  her;  if  I 
was." 

"Do  you  know  when  she  left?" 

"No.  I  cannot  recall  seeing  her  after  the  early  part  of 
the  evening — "  Bebe's  breath  caught  again,  uncontrollably. 

"You  were  seated  at  a  corner  table  in  the  supper  room 
with  young  Mr.  Gaylor  and  the  Harringtons,"  Paul  re- 
marked with  a  new  note  of  firmness.  "You  must  have  had 
a  comprehensive  view  of  the  room.  Where  was  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  seated?" 

"I — I  didn't  see  her!"  Bebe  had  taken  swift  alarm. 
"How  did  you  know  where  I  sat,  Mr.  Harvey  ?  And  what 
in  the  world  has  it  to  do ?" 

"I  am  trying  to  fix  the  hour  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  de- 
parture," he  explained  patiently.  "When  was  the  last  time 
you  saw  her,  Mrs.  Cowles?" 

"Oh,  some  little  time  before  supper ;  three  or  four  dances, 
at  least.  She  passed  me  in  the  conservatory." 

"Who  was  with  lier?" 


LIES  87 

"I  don't  know;  I  couldn't  see"  Bebe's  heavily  ringed 
hands  were  twisting  now  in  her  lap.  "That  jazz  band  was 
playing  so  loud  you  couldn't  have  recognized  anyone  by 
their  voices." 

"Did  you  remain  in  the  conservatory?" 

"No.  I  went  and  sat  out  the  next  dance  with  Freddie 
Gaylor  on  the  stairs." 

"Then  you  saw  Mr.  Swarthmore  leave  ?" 

She  nodded. 

"You've  been  talking  to  Freddie,  haven't  you?  Yes,  I 
did  see  him  making  his  way  to  the  cloak-room.  I — fancied 
from  his  expression  that  he  was  put  out  about  something, 
but  he  is  usually  boorish,  you  know ;  it  is  a  sort  of  a  pose 
with  him.  He  abhors  a  crush  and  that  crowd  must  have  put 
his  temper  on  edge." 

"Did  Mr.  Braddock,  too,  leave  soon  after?" 

"Oh,  no !  He  took  Mrs.  Ledyard  in  to  supper  and  stayed 
until  the  last,"  Bebe  responded  eagerly  at  the  change  of 
subject.  "I  recall  that  particularly  because  he  went  all 
about  looking  for  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  I  gathered  that  he 
expected  to  take  her  home,  but  she  must  have  slipped  away 
early." 

"Mrs.  Cowles,"  Paul  leaned  forward  earnestly  and  stared 
into  her  shallow  eyes,  "did  you  see  or  hear  anything  at  the 
dance  which  could  possibly  have  any  bearing  upon  the 
crime  which  followed  it?  Anything  which  however  re- 
motely suggested  a  motive  of  enmity  toward  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne ?" 

Bebe's  eyes  wavered  and  fell,  and  the  flush  receded, 
leaving  her  face  ghastly  beneath  the  masking  rouge. 

"No,  Mr.  Harvey.  What  could  there  have  been  to  see 
or  hear?  As  far  as  I  know,  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  not  a — 
an  enemy  in  the  world." 


Chapter  VIII. 
A  BRIBE  THAT  FAILED. 

AS  the  elevator  bore  Paul  swiftly  to  the  street  level 
his  thoughts  were  fixed  upon  the  problem  with  which 
the   volatile   witness   upstairs   had   presented   him. 
What  scene  had  occurred  at  the  Ledyards'  which  she  must 
conceal  because  of  the  part  that  she  herself  had  played  in  it? 

He  had  made  no  mistake  in  reading  her  character.  Vain, 
selfish,  indolently  pleasure-loving  as  she  was,  Mrs.  Cowles 
possessed  a  highly  developed  shrewdness  where  her  own 
interests  were  at  stake;  careless  as  to  the  result  of  her 
revelations  concerning  her  friends,  she  yet  instinctively 
guarded  against  placing  herself  in  an  equivocal  position. 

Her  statement  that  she  had  not  been  near  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne  at  any  time  during  Thursday  evening  had  been  con- 
tradicted by  her  admission  that  she  had  passed  the  other 
woman  in  the  conservatory,  and  her  denial  that  she  recog- 
nized Mrs.  Hartshorne's  companion  was  as  palpable  a  false- 
hood as  her  final  statement.  He  had  no  doubt  that  in  her 
own  mind  there  lurked  at  least  a  suspicion  of  the  possible 
motive  for  the  crime. 

Why,  too,  had  she  herself  mentioned  Mr.  Swarthmore's 
obviously  angry  mood  as  he  forced  his  way  through  the 
crowd  toward  the  cloakroom  and  then  sought  to  belittle 
that  anger  by  the  suggestion  that  it  was  a  mere  irritation  at 
the  crush  which  hemmed  him  in?  Was  she  seeking  to  dis- 
count anything  Freddie  Gaylor  might  have  revealed  to  him  I 

88 


A  BRIBE  THAT  FAILED  89 

Had  she  also  witnessed  that  meeting  in  the  doorway  between 
Swarthmore  and  President  Braddock  ? 

So  preoccupied  was  he  when  he  reached  the  sidewalk 
that  Paul  took  no  heed  of  a  small,  slender,  vivacious  figure 
which  all  but  collided  with  him.  He  would  have  passed  on 
obliviously  had  not  she  hailed  him  shyly. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Harvey." 

"Miss  Adarel"  He  clasped  her  frankly  extended  hand. 
"This  is  fortunate,  for  I  had  meant  to  look  you  up  later. 
Where  are  you  going  ?" 

She  nodded  laughingly  toward  the  entrance  of  the  apart- 
ment house  he  had  just  left. 

"To  write  some  notes  for  Mrs.  Cowles,"  she  replied. 
"I'm  early  to-day,  though,  and  I  can  turn  and  walk  on  a 
bit  with  you  if  you  like.  There's  something  I  think  I  ought 
to  tell  you;  it's  just  a  little  thing  that  Matilde  said  to  me 
when  we  found  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  body,  but  I  can't  make 
head  or  tail  of  it." 

"Thanks,  I'd  like  to  hear."  He  glanced  quickly,  ap- 
praisingly  at  her  as  she  fell  into  step  beside  him.  "Any- 
thing bearing  on  this  affair,  no  matter  how  trivial,  may  be  of 
inestimable  help  to  me." 

"Well,  when  I  realized  that  Matilde  must  have  known 
what  had  happened  long  before  I  came,  and  just  left  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  lying  there  without  calling  for  help  or  giving 
the  alarm  or  anything,  I  thought  it  was  the  most  heartless 
thing  I  ever  heard  of ;  and  when  we  stood  together  looking 
down  at  the  poor  thing's  body  and  she  with  never  a  tear  in 
her  eye  I  had  to  speak!  I  asked  her  how  she  could  be  so 
unfeeling  after  Mrs.  Hartshorne  thinking  she  was  so  de- 
voted to  her.  I  told  her  she  seemed  almost  glad  of  the 
terrible  thing  that  had  happened." 

"What  reply  did  she  make?"  asked  Paul. 


90  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"That's  what  I  can't  understand.  'I  would  have  followed 
Madame  to  the  ends  of  the  earth!'  she  said,  and  her  eyes 
seemed  to  burn  right  through  me,  she  was  so  earnest.  'I 
would  have  guarded  her  from  all  harm  with  my  own  life !' 
She  meant  it,  too,  Mr.  Harvey,  and  that's  the  strangest  part 
of  it,  for  she  added  with  a  sudden  change  to  the  coldest  sort 
of  indifference:  'But  if  she  has  killed  herself,  what  would 
you?'" 

"Matilde  seems  to  be  somewhat  of  a  fatalist,"  Paul  com- 
mented. "You  are  quite  certain,  Miss  Adare,  that  she 
meant  that  rather  extravagant  assertion  of  her  willingness 
to  sacrifice  her  own  life  for  her  mistress?" 

"She  meant  it  as  much  as  she  meant  anything  in  this 
world !"  responded  Rose  solemnly.  "She's  a  queer  woman, 
that  Matilde !  I  am  a  pretty  good  judge  of  human  nature, 
but  I've  never  been  able  to  size  her  up.  She  was  respectful 
enough  and  did  what  she  was  told  without  a  word  and 
looked  after  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  comfort  as  though  she  took 
a  personal  interest  in  it,  but  she  was  always  glum  and 
repressed.  It  seemed  to  me  sometimes  as  if  she  were  hold- 
ing herself  in,  watching  herself,  for  fear  she'd  make  a  slip. 
Maybe  I'm  exaggerating,  but  I  can't  think  of  poor  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  without  seeing  Matilde  standing  there,  looking 
down  at  her  with  that  strange  gleam  in  her  eyes." 

"But  her  mistress'  death  probably  affected  .her  more 
than  she  was  willing  to  have  you  know,"  Paul  observed. 
"She  fainted  later,  didn't  she?" 

"Yes,"  Rose  responded  with  emphasis.  "She  fainted 
when  she  learned  through  Chief  Burke's  talk  with  you  over 
the  'phone  that  he  and  the  Coroner  had  discovered  it  wasn't 
suicide  after  all,  but  murder!  Goodness  knows  I  don't 
want  to  suspect  anyone  myself  in  such  a  terrible  thing  as 
this,  much  less  cast  suspicion  on  them,  but  I  can't  help 


A  BRIBE  THAT  FAILED  91 

feeling  that  Matilde  knows,  or  thinks  she  knows,  more 
about  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  death  than  she'll  ever  tell.  If  she 
does,  wild  horses  wouldn't  be  able  to  drag  it  from  her!" 

"Miss  Adare,"  Paul  seemed  scarcely  to  have  heard  the 
latter  part  of  her  speech.  "You  refuse  to  gossip,  I  know, 
but  you  are  in  a  better  position  than  anyone  else  whom  I 
have  encountered  on  this  investigation  to  hear  the  com- 
ments of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  friends  upon  her  death  and 
the  manner  of  it.  If  I  could  have  an  assistant  on  this  case 
I  would  like  to  put  her  in  your  shoes.  I  wonder  if  you 
would  be  willing  to  really  help  me  ?" 

Rose's  eyes  sparkled. 

"I'd  give  anything  to!"  she  cried.  "Mrs.  Hartshorne 
was  always  kind  to  me  and  it  is  disgusting  to  see  the  way 
all  those  people  who  called  themselves  her  friends  are 
tumbling  over  each  other  now  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  a 
scandal.  They  couldn't  praise  her  and  flatter  her  enough 
when  she  was  writing  checks  for  their  pet  charities,  but  I 
haven't  heard  one  good  word  spoken  for  her  now  that  she's 
dead.  I  don't  believe  their  remarks  would  help  you,  Mr. 
Harvey!  But  was  it  something  in  particular  that  you 
wanted  me  to  try  to  find  out  for  you  ?" 

"Yes.  I'm  going  to  be  absolutely  frank  with  you.  Of 
course,  I've  only  begun  my  investigation,  but  so  far  I  can't 
find  anyone  who  is  willing  to  admit  that  he  or  she  recalls 
seeing  Mrs.  Hartshorne  later  than  half-past  eleven  or  so  on 
Thursday  night  at  the  Ledyards'  dance;  no  one  seems  to 
know  when  she  left  for  home  or  who  accompanied  her.  It 
seems  inconceivable  that  she  should  have  slipped  away 
without  a  word  to  anyone.  Now,  don't  you  think,"  he 
lowered  his  voice  persuasively,  "that  you  might  be  able  to 
lead  the  conversation  around  to  that  point  when  your  clients 
mention  the  murder  to  you?  They  are  bound  to  do  so, 


92  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

for  all  the  papers  mentioned  you  as  the  first  to  discover 
Mrs.  Hartshorne's  body  and  summon  aid,  and  they  will 
all  be  bursting  with  morbid  curiosity.  See  if  among  them 
you  cannot  find  one  who  saw  her  leave  the  Ledyard  house 
and  at  what  hour." 

"I'll  try,"  promised  Rose,  somewhat  dubiously.  "I  would 
be  doing  no  one  any  harm  with  that  kind  of  gossip,  but 
suppose  those  who  do  know  what  time  she  left  and  who 
went  with  her  have  a  reason  for  not  talking  about  it? 
Perhaps  someone  in  the  neighborhood  saw  her  when  she 
came  home;  if  she  wasn't  in  somebody's  private  car  she 
must  have  had  a  taxi,  dressed  as  she  was,  and  the  sound 
of  it  in  that  quiet  street  late  at  night  may  have  disturbed 
someone  who  was  wakeful.  Did  you  think  to  make  in- 
quiries across  the  street,  Mr.  Harvey?" 

"I've  canvassed  the  neighborhood  pretty  thoroughly,"  he 
replied  with  an  inward  smile  at  her  naivete.  "No  one  ap- 
pears to  have  seen  or  heard  her,  but  as  they  even  failed  to 
hear  the  pistol  shot  later,  that  isn't  to  be  wondered  at. —  No, 
Miss  Adare,  I  think  you  have  a  far  better  opportunity  than 
I  to  get  at  the  truth  about  this  by  starting  from  the  other 
end;  the  time  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  last  seen  at  the  Led- 
yards'  house." 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,"  Rose  repeated  as  she  paused  and 
held  out  her  hand.  There  was  an  absent-minded  quality  in 
her  tone  and  she  blinked  as  though  a  new  idea  had  presented 
itself  to  her.  "I  must  go  back  now  or  I  shall  be  late.  If  I 
find  out  anything  where  can  I  let  you  know  ?" 

Paul  drew  out  a  card  case  and  scribbled  upon  an  oblong  of 
cardboard. 

"There  is  my  telephone  number,"  he  said.  "I  am  grateful 
to  you,  Miss  Adare,  and  I  shall  look  forward  to  hearing 
from  you." 


A  BRIBE  THAT  FAILED  93 

He  watched  her  buoyant  little  figure  as  she  retraced  her 
steps  until  she  was  lost  to  view  in  the  mazes  of  traffic  at 
the  corner.  He  could  not  explain  even  to  himself  what  un- 
precedented impulse  had  moved  him  to  take  her  into  his 
confidence  and  enlist  her  aid.  Instinct  rather  than  reason 
had  assured  him  that  she  was  to  be  trusted.  Even  at  their 
first  interview  he  had  acquired  a  lively  respect  for  her 
powers  of  discernment.  He  had  spoken  in  all  sincerity 
when  he  told  her  of  his  belief  that  she  could  help  him,  for 
only  in  learning  at  what  hour  and  under  what  auspices 
the  woman  now  dead  had  returned  to  her  home  could  he 
advance  a  step  forward  in  his  investigation.  And  Rose 
Adare  in  her  confidential  capacity  would  have  more  real  in- 
formation thrust  upon  her  than  he  could  hope  to  glean. 

Paul  stopped  for  a  chop  and  a  cup  of  coffee  at  a  nearby 
restaurant  and  then  entered  the  telephone  booth.  The  doors 
of  the  Eastopolis  Trust  Company  had  closed  at  twelve,  it 
being  Saturday,  and  Paul  surmised  that  President  Braddock 
would  be  in  no  state  of  mind  to  brave  any  of  his  clubs, 
where  the  sole  topic  of  conversation  and  conjecture  would 
be  the  murder  which  had  shaken  the  social  structure  of  the 
city  to  its  foundations. 

He  rang  up  the  Braddock  house  and  a  quavering,  ancient 
voice  replied :  "Mr.  Braddock  cannot  be  disturbed,  sir." 

"Kindly  tell  Mr.  Braddock  that  I  shall  only  detain  him 
for  a  few  moments.  I  have  a  message  on  a  private  matter 
from  the  Chief  of  Police." 

There  ensued  evidently  a  hurried  colloquy  at  the  other 
end  of  the  wire,  for  Paul  caught  the  echo  of  an  indis- 
tinguishable mutter  which  broke  in  upon  the  butler's  high- 
pitched  tones.  Then  the  latter  spoke  again. 

"Mr.  Braddock  will  see  you,  sir,  if  you  can  come  at 
once." 


94  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

The  old  mansion  which  had  sheltered  three  generations 
of  Braddocks  was  a  venerable  pile  of  brown  stone  situated 
on  the  corner  of  what  had  once  been  the  most  fashionable 
square  in  the  city.  It  was  still  exclusive,  for  the  property 
of  the  deserters  who  had  followed  the  upward  trend  of  a 
more  modern  day  had  been  bought  in  by  the  old  guard  which 
still  remained  faithful  to  earlier  traditions,  and  no  bustling 
shop  or  towering  office  building  had  invaded  its  sacred 
precincts. 

Everything  about  it  spoke  of  permanence,  of  a  solid 
aristocracy  as  old  as  the  nation  and  as  secure,  and  to  Paul 
as  he  mounted  the  steps  and  lifted  the  antique  bronze 
knocker,  there  came  an  incongruous  thought  of  that  other 
house  a  mile  or  two  uptown,  impudent  in  its  modernity  but 
dainty  and  charming  and  exquisitely  appointed;  the  house 
where  a  woman  of  mystery  had  sought  sanctuary  and  found 
the  end  of  all  things. 

The  butler  was  white-haired  and  tremulous  with  palsy, 
but  he  bowed  with  a  consummate  blend  of  deference  and 
patronage  to  the  representative  of  law  and  order,  and  led 
him  up  the  wide  staircase  to  a  library  or  den  on  the  second 
floor. 

A  figure  clad  in  a  purple  silk  house-robe  rose  from  the 
depths  of  an  armchair  beside  the  empty  hearth.  Paul  was 
constrained  to  look  twice  before  he  recognized  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Eastopolis  Trust  Company.  The  white  side- 
whiskers  straggled  forlornly  from  the  flabby,  pendulous 
cheeks,  which  had  assumed  a  pasty  gray  hue,  and  the  sleek, 
portly  body  seemed  oddly  limp  and  shrunken,  like  a  de- 
flated balloon.  Braddock  had  aged  in  appearance  ten  years 
at  least.  As  he  peered  at  his  visitor  and  waved  him  toward 
a  chair  he  looked  full  seventy  years  instead  of  the  sixty 
he  had  borne  so  jauntily. 


A  BRIBE  THAT  FAILED  95 

"You  have  come,  of  course,  about  the  property  of  that 
unfortunate  young  woman."  It  was  obvious  that  he  had 
carefully  rehearsed  his  opening  remark.  "I  have  been  ex- 
pecting some  such  call  from — ah,  Headquarters,  and  I  have 
here  a  certified  list  of  such  stocks,  bonds,  securities  and 
cash  as  she  had  placed  on  deposit  with  the  Trust  Company 
of  Eastopolis.  Our  auditor  will  go  over  it  with  you  at  any 
time  and  make  whatever  disposition  of  it  the  authorities 
require  under  these  distressing  circumstances." 

He  produced  a  long  envelope  which  Paul  pocketed 
gravely,  without  a  second  glance. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Braddock.  The  Chief  will  need  this, 
of  course.  But  I  have  come  to  discuss  a  more  intimate, 
personal  phase  of  this  case  than  the  property  left  by  Mrs. 
Hartshorne." 

The  other  shrank  perceptibly  into  the  depths  of  his  arm- 
chair. 

"There  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  help  you,  Mr.  Harvey.  I 
know  nothing  whatever  of  the  lady  or  her  antecedents.  She 
came  to  me  and  made  a  large  deposit  in  cash  and  nego- 
tiable securities  and  bonds.  Later  I  met  her  socially  in 
the  best  houses.  That  is  really  all  that  I  can  tell  you." 

"But  when  she  deposited  these  funds  with  the  Trust 
Company  did  not  you  ask  or  she  offer  any  credentials  or 
references?"  There  was  courteous  incredulity  in  Paul's 
tone.  The  older  man  winced. 

"No.  It — it  was  an  error  in  judgment,  perhaps,  but  I 
was  deeply  impressed  by  her  keen  business  sense  and  grasp 
of  the  intricacies  of  finance.  She  was  an  experienced  specu- 
lator on  the  stock  market.  I  could  see  that  at  once ;  keen, 
cool,  and  yet  at  times  a  daring  plunger.  Successful  women 
operators  are  rare.  For  these  reasons  it  did  not  occur  to  me 
to  ask  for  credentials  as  ordinarily  I  would  have." 


96  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"You  met  Mrs.  Hartshorne  frequently  in  society  there- 
after, Mr.  Braddock?  Did  you  not  think  it  strange  that 
no  one  knew  anything  about  her?" 

"I  did  not  think  of  it  one  way  or  another!"  Mr.  Brad- 
dock  retorted  testily.  "She  was  a  charming  young  woman 
with  poise,  intellect,  obvious  breeding  and  independent 
wealth.  She  needed  no  other  passport  than  those  assets." 

"You  became  one  of  her  closest  friends,  did  you  not?" 
asked  Paul  coolly. 

"I  should  scarcely  go  so  far  as  to  claim  that  honor!  I 
was  interested  in  the  young  woman  in  a  paternal  sense.  I 
frequently  advised  her  in  her  financial  transactions  and  she 
relied  upon  my  judgment.  Naturally,  I  paid  her  the  little 
perfunctory  attentions  which  a  man  of  the  world  extends 
to  a  charming  woman  whose  hospitality  he  occasionally 
enjoys;  flowers,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  That  marked  the 
limit  of  our  acquaintanceship." 

"You  knew  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  habit  of  keeping  com- 
paratively large  sums  in  cash  in  her  house  ?" 

Mr.  Braddock  nodded. 

"Yes.  I  have  more  than  once  remonstrated  with  her 
about  it.  It  was  a  foolish,  indeed  dangerous  proceeding. 
But  it  was  an  idiosyncrasy— one  of  the  little  inconsistencies 
of  her  sex  which  it  is  impossible  to  combat.  I  thought  of 
it  at  once  when  the  horrible  news  of  the  tragedy  came,  but 
I  understand  that  the  motive  is  not  believed  to  have  been 
robbery ?" 

His  voice  trailed  off  into  a  tremulous  silence.  Paul  re- 
marked sympathetically : 

"Her  death  and  the  manner  of  it  must  have  been  a  pro- 
found shock  to  you,  Mr.  Braddock !" 

The  other  peered  at  him  suspiciously  from  under  lowered 
brows, 


A  BRIBE  THAT  FAILED  97 

"It  was,  naturally,  after  seeing  the  young  woman  bloom- 
ing with  health  and  spirits  only  a  few  hours  before  the 
news  came.  I  am  not  a  well  man,  Mr.  Harvey,  as  you  see, 
and  the  affair  has  greatly  upset  me.  If  there  is  nothing 
more  that  I  can  do  for  you,  and  I  really  do  not  think  that 
I  can  be  of  any  assistance  to  the  authorities — may  I  ask 
you  to  excuse  me?" 

"Just  a  moment,  Mr.  Braddock.  You  dined  with  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  at  her  home  on  Wednesday  evening.  I  should 
like  to  know  what  passed  between  you;  what  the  topic  of 
conversation  was  throughout  the  evening." 

"Really,  young  man,  you  go  too  far!"  Wendle  Braddock 
started  from  his  chair  in  a  spurt  of  resentment.  His  old 
pomposity  of  bearing  returned ;  but  beneath  it  Paul  divined 
an  underlying  note  of  dismay  akin  to  fear.  "Our  discussion 
was  confined  solely  to  her  private  affairs;  her  investments 
and  speculations.  I  advised  her  about  certain  proposed 
transactions.  Nothing  that  we  mentioned  could  have  had 
any  bearing  whatsoever  on  the — the  tragedy." 

"Perhaps  not."  Paul  had  risen  and  stood  gazing  levelly 
into  the  older  man's  defiant,  troubled  eyes.  "Was  it  also  in 
your  capacity  of  fatherly  adviser,  Mr.  Braddock,  that  on  the 
following  afternoon  you  sent  to  Mrs.  Hartshorne  a  string  of 
pearls  valued  at  thirty-two  thousand  dollars  from  Webster 
and  Weil?" 

"Oh,  my  God !"  The  figure  before  him  wilted  suddenly, 
swaying  toward  him,  and  a  pudgy  hand  gripped  his  arm 
imploringly.  "Don't  let  anyone  know !  God,  man,  it  would 
ruin  me !  I  should  be  ridiculous,  a  laughing-stock,  one  more 
old  fool  beguiled  by  a  designing  female!  Can  you  realize 
what  the  newspapers  will  make  of  it,  and  the  directors  of 
the  Trust  Company,  to  say  nothing  of  my  other  associates  ? 
It  is  that  which  has  been  killing  me !  But  I  hoped  against 


98  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

hope  that  my  purchase  of  the  pearls  would  not  be  dis- 
covered !" 

"The  press  has  no  inkling  of  it  as  yet,  Mr.  Braddock; 
we  do  not  give  out  the  details  of  our  investigation  unless 
some  point  is  to  be  gained  by  doing  so."  Paul  spoke  in 
cold  disgust.  He  shook  off  the  detaining  hand. 

"Ah!  Then  you  can  fix  it  so  that  the  matter  will  be 
kept  quiet?"  The  whine  took  on  an  eager,  crafty  note. 
"It  had  no  possible  connection  with  the  crime,  you  see,  for 
the  motive  wasn't  robbery.  And  I'll  make  it  worth  your 
while,  young  man !  I  can  put  you  in  a  position  which  will 
mean  a  big  future " 

"Stop,  Mr.  Braddock!"  Paul  drew  himself  up  until  his 
slight  form  towered  above  the  cringing  figure  before  him. 
"You  misunderstood  me;  I  am  not  here  to  be  bribed!  If 
you  want  to  keep  secret  the  fact  that  you  were  the  pur- 
chaser of  that  string  of  pearls,  it  would  be  well  for  you  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  affair.  What  were  your 
relations  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne?" 

Wendle  Braddock  gave  one  timorous,  hunted  glance  at 
the  door  as  if  he  feared  the  lurking  presence  of  some  un- 
seen listener.  Then  he  straightened  and  threw  back  his 
shoulders  with  a  touch  of  real  dignity. 

"I  had  asked  Mrs.  Hartshorne  to  be  my  wife,"  he  said. 


Chapter  IX. 
WITHOUT  ALIBI. 

YOU  mean,  Mr.  Braddock,  that  a  secret  engagement 
existed  between  you?"  Paul  asked  quickly. 
"Not  exactly  clandestine."    Braddock  sank  wearily 
into  his  chair  once  more.    In  the  reaction  folowing  his  en- 
forced revelation  he  seemed  more  pinched  and  shrunken 
than  ever.    His  voice  was  scarcely  above  a  whisper.    "There 
had  been  no  time  to  make  an  announcement  had  we  cared  to 
do  so,  but  it  was  her  wish  that  the  affair  be  kept  absolutely 
quiet  until — until  the  ceremony." 

"You  had  only  recently  proposed  to  her?" 

"On  Wednesday  evening."  His  head  sunk  upon  his 
breast  and  his  thick  fingers  gripped  the  arms  of  his  chair. 
"God,  what  a  fool !  What  a  narrow  escape !  If  this  thing 
had  happened  later — afterwards — the  disgrace  of  it  would 
have  killed  me!  That  I  should  have  succumbed  to  a  blind 
infatuation,  at  my  time  of  life 1" 

"I  take  it  that  you  did  not  speak  in  a  moment  of  impulse." 
Paul  interrupted  his  lamentations  brusquely.  "Mrs.  Harts- 
horne  was  aware  of  your  intentions?" 

"I — I  do  not  think  so."  He  passed  a  shaking  hand  across 
his  brow.  "She  had  thought  of  me  merely  as  a  good 
friend,  one  to  be  trusted  and  upon  whose  judgment  she 
could  rely.  I  had  considered  the  matter  tentatively  for 
some  weeks.  I  had  about  decided  to  retire  from  active 
business ;  and  the  companionship  of  a  young  and  charming 

99 


ioo  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

woman,  such  a  woman  as  I  believed  Mrs.  Hartshorne  to 
be,  would  have  given  me  a  new  interest  in  life.  I  had  not 
meant  to  be  percipitate,  but  a  whisper  of  idle  gossip  and 
conjecture  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne  crystallized  my  deter- 
mination. It  should  have  warned  me.  It  would  have,  had 
I  not  been  so  deeply  interested,  but  as  it  was  I  thought  only 
of  offering  her  my  protection  against  the  envious  tongues 
which  assailed  her. 

"When  I  dined  with  her  on  Wednesday  evening  and  she 
spoke  of  selling  her  house  and  going  away,  saying  that  she 
was  depressed  and  lonely  and  had  found  no  real  friends 
among  us  but  me,  I — I  asked  her  to  become  my  wife.  She 
seemed  amazed  and  touchingly  pleased,  but  feared  she  was 
not  clever  enough  to  make  me  happy.  She  would  feel  safe 
and  protected  with  me,  on  her  part,  but  I  must  be  very 
sure  of  my  affection  for  her.  I  urged  her  to  consent.  The 
upshot  was  we  arranged  that  I  should  retire  at  once.  As 
soon  as  the  affairs  of  the  Trust  Company  could  be  adjusted 
and  my  successor  installed  we  planned  to  be  married  very 
quietly  and  go  on  a  long  wedding  trip  to  Japan  and  the  Far 
East.  She  dreaded  the  fuss  and  bother  of  a  formal  en- 
gagement and  elaborate  ceremony,  and  I  agreed  with  her. 
God!  If  I  could  have  foreseen !" 

"You  sent  her  the  pearls  next  day  and  met  her  at  the 
Ledyards'  dance  in  the  evening?" 

"Yes.  She  came  late  with  the  Gaylors,  but  promised  me 
that  I  should  take  her  home.  We  sat  out  several  dances  and 
then  I  relinquished  her  to  other  partners  to  avert  gossip. 
I  do  not  dance,  nor  will  my  liver  permit  me  to  indulge  in 
midnight  suppers.  So  after  my  talk  with  her  I  escaped 
from  the  crush  with  Colonel  Ledyard  and  we  went  to  his 
den  for  a  quiet  smoke.  Mr.  Harvey,  I  did  not  see  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  again." 


WITHOUT  ALIBI  101 

He  added  the  last  sentence  with  marked  impress! veness. 

"What  time  was  it  when  you  retired  to  the  den?"  asked 
Paul. 

"About  eleven,  I  think."  Braddock  glanced  up,  surprised 
at  the  question. 

"How  long  did  you  remain  there?" 

"I  should  say  twenty  minutes  or  a  half-hour.  Mrs.  Led- 
yard  sent  for  the  Colonel,  and  I  went  back  to  the  ballroom. 
But  Mrs.  Hartshorne  wasn't  visible  and  that  cursed  jazz 
band  was  making  such  a  hideous  racket  that  I  was  glad  to 
get  out  of  earshot.  I  drifted  to  the  smoking-room  and  got 
interested  in  a  discussion  with  Judge  Talbot  and  some 
others ;  we  must  have  talked  for  an  hour  or  two  before  I 
went  back  to  see  if  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  tired  and  ready  to 
go  home.  I  could  not  find  her  anywhere !  No  one  seemed 
to  have  seen  her,  but  in  that  crush  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible to  keep  track  of  anyone.  I  ascertained  that  she 
had  not  taken  leave  of  her  hostess  and  waited  until  the  very 
last,  hoping  that  she  would  reappear.  When  she  did  not, 
I  was  forced  to  conclude  that  she  had  either  been  taken 
ill  or  had  grown  tired,  and  being  unable  to  find  me  had  gone 
home  alone." 

"Mrs.  Hartshorne  kept  no  car,  I  understand." 

"None.  I  had  thought  it  odd,  I  remember,  for  she  could 
well  afford  one;  indeed,  her  home  would  have  permitted 
her  to  live  in  a  far  more  pretentious  way  than  she  did. 
But  her  tastes  were  simple  and  she  preferred  to  use  her 
capital  and  the  larger  part  of  her  income  to  make  more." 

"What  did  you  do  when  you  discovered  her  disappearance 
from  the  Ledyards?" 

"I  came  directly  home  here,  myself,  and  endeavored  to 
telephone  her,  but  her  house  number  would  not  answer.  I 
supposed,  of  course,  that  her  maids  had  long  since  retired 


102  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

and  that  she  herself  was  asleep,  and  I  made  no  further 
effort  to  disturb  her.  I  was  wretched  in  the  morning — bad 
attack  of  liver — and  had  to  send  for  the  doctor.  It  was 
afternoon  before  I  was  able  to  sit  up.  I  was  on  the  point 
of  calling  her  up  once  more  when — when  extras  were 
shouted  upon  the  streets." 

"What  time  was  it  when  you  returned  to  your  home  from 
the  Ledyards?" 

"After  two  o'clock  in  the  morning."  Braddock  moved 
uneasily  in  his  chair.  "It  was  an  inexcusable  hour  to  have 
telephoned,  but  I  was  anxious ;  I  could  not  understand  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  having  left  without  making  an  effort  to  find 
me,  unless  she  were  ill.  In  the  light  of  what  did  happen 
I  understand  it  less  than  ever.  What  could  have  sent  her 
home  to  her  death?  Who  killed  her?" 

"I  hope  to  be  able  to  answer  those  questions  some  day, 
Mr.  Braddock."  Paul  smiled  slightly  and  then  his  face 
grew  grave.  "Did  your  butler  or  valet  wait  up  for  your 
return  from  the  Ledyards,  or  did  you  let  yourself  into  the 
house?" 

"George  is  both  valet  and  butler  to  me,  for  I  have  not 
entertained  at  home  since  my  sister  died.  He  always  waits 
up  for  me,  no  matter  at  what  hour  I  return." 

"He  did  so  on  Thursday  evening?"  Paul  insisted. 

"Of  course."    Braddock's  tone  was  sharp  with  surprise. 

"Did  you  retire  immediately  after  attempting  to  get  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  on  the  wire,  or  did  you  go  out  again?" 

"At  that  hour?  Certainly  not,  sir !"  The  pasty  hue  of  the 
banker's  countenance  had  turned  a  dull  mottled  purple.  "If 
you  are  trying  to  connect  me  with  that  hideous  affair,  your 
inference  is  an  outrage !  What  with  my  touch  of  liver  com- 
ing on  and  my  anxiety  over  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  I  had  a  very 
bad  night.  George  slept  in  my  dressing-room  to  be  within 


WITHOUT  ALIBI  103 

call  and  I  had  him  up  a  half-dozen  times.    He  can  testify 
to  that,  if  my  statement  needs  corroboration  1" 

"Mr.  Braddock," — Paul  paid  no  heed  to  the  other's  indig- 
nation— "did  anyone  learn  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  engage- 
ment to  you?  Could  anyone  have  obtained  an  inkling  of 
it?" 

"Not  unless  Mrs.  Hartshorne  herself  told  them,  and  I 
am  sure  she  would  on  no  account  mention  it.  It  was  she, 
not  I,  who  wished  to  keep  it  secret."  He  paused  and  then 
added  with  greater  emphasis,  as  though  to  reassure  himself : 
"No  one  could  have  even  suspected  it.  I  had  been  most 
guarded,  most  discreet  in  my  attentions  to  her  up  to  the 
moment  of  my  proposal.  There  could  have  been  nothing  in 
the  demeanor  of  either  of  us  during  the  dance  to  suggest 
that  the  status  of  our  relations  had  changed  from  the  cordial 
friendship  we  had  previously  maintained." 

Paul  leaned  forward  and  gazed  straight  into  his  host's 
shrinking  eyes. 

"Mr.  Braddock,  it  has  come  to  my  attention  through 
several  sources  that  bad  blood  exists  between  you  and  Mr. 
Cornelius  Swarthmore.  Is  this  true?" 

"I — I  shouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  say  that,"  Braddock  re- 
turned cautiously.  "He  is  of  a  younger  generation,  more 
pushing  and  progressive,  and  his  financial  methods  are  un- 
scrupulous, according  to  my  more  conservative  point  of 
view.  I  have  blocked  more  than  one  of  his  schemes  which 
I  am  convinced  were  not  strictly  on  the  level.  But  I  could 
have  proved  nothing  against  him ;  he  is  too  wary.  Naturally 
we  are  at  swords'  points  in  a  business  way,  but  as  we  are 
constantly  encountering  each  other  socially  we  have  not 
permitted  our  antagonism  to  come  to  an  open  breach.  I 
should  call  it  merley  a  mutual,  tacitly  understood  dislike." 

"Do  you  recall  colliding  with  him  in  the  ball-room  door 


104  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

at  the  Ledyards  during  the  early  part  of  the  evening?" 

"Yes.  It  was  when  I  had  come  from  the  den  to  look 
for  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  I  had  not  succeeded  in  finding  her, 
and  was  on  my  way  to  the  smoking-room  as  I  told  you, 
when  I  thought  I  would  take  a  last  glance  about  the  ball- 
room. Mr.  Swarthmore  seemed  to  be  rather  in  a  hurry — " 
he  paused. 

"He  was  rude,  was  he  not?  Almost  insulting  in  his 
manner?"  Paul  pursued. 

The  other  waved  a  magnanimous  hand. 

"I  ignored  it.  Swarthmore  and  his  moods  are  of  no 
moment  to  me.  I  was  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  be  an- 
noyed by  trifles." 

"You  were  aware,  of  course — you  must  have  been — of 
his  attentions  to  Mrs.  Hartshorne?" 

Braddock's  weak  eyes  snapped  angrily. 

"They  were  no  more  than  the  attentions  of  others  in  our 
set.  I  should  have  warned  her  of  what  manner  of  man  he 
was,  and  his  reputation  with  women,  had  there  been  need, 
but  I  could  see  that  she  was  not  encouraging  him.  She  was 
discretion  itself.  And  her  nature  seemed  so  simple,  so  open ! 
How  could  I  have  been  so  taken  in !" 

"The  fact  that  she  has  been  foully  murdered  by  some 
person  as  yet  unknown  does  not  necessarily  suggest  that 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  the  designing  adventuress  you  seem 
to  believe,"  Paul  commented  with  studied  carelessness. 

"Good  Lord,  man,  what  am  I  to  think?  If  the  crime  was 
not  the  aftermath  of  something  in  the  past,  what  is  it? 
And  if  some  such  secret  existed  and  she  were  an  honest  wo- 
man, it  was  her  duty  to  have  told  me  when  I  offered  her  the 
protection  of  my  name !" 

"And  you  have  no  curiosity  as  to  the  identity  of  her 
slayer?"  Paul  rose.  "You  will  admit,  Mr.  Braddock,  that 


WITHOUT  ALIBI  105 

for  a  man  professedly  in  love,  your  attitude  seems  strangely 
lacking  in  interest." 

"It  was  not  love,  at  my  age !"  protested  the  banker,  bleat- 
ingly.  "It  was  blind  infatuation,  I  tell  you !  Since  the  first 
shock  of  the  news  subsided  I  have  been  thinking  the  whole 
affair  over,  and  I'm  beginning  to  see  that  I'm  well  out  of  it! 
If  I  can  only  keep  the  fact  of  my  serious  intentions  regard- 
ing the  young  woman  from  becoming  public  property,  it  is 
all  I  ask.  The  identity  of  the  person  who  killed  her,  terrible 
as  the  crime  was,  is  of  no  moment  to  me  compared  with  the 
loss  of  my  reputation,  my  dignity  and  my  standing  in  this 
community.  I  cannot  afford  to  have  my  name  connected 
with  this  affair  in  any  way,  Mr.  Harvey !  As  it  is,  I  shall 
undoubtedly  be  subjected  to  much  invidious  criticism  be- 
cause I  accepted  her  deposit  at  the  Trust  Company  without 
credentials.  That  I  am  prepared  to  meet,  but  if  anything 
more  personal  transpires  I  shall  never  be  able  to  hold  up  my 
head  again !  I  hope  most  heartily  that  the  affair  drops  from 
public  notice  and  is  forgotten  as  soon  as  may  be !" 

"And  the  murderer ?" 

"The  murderer  be — be  confounded,  sir !  I'm  thinking  of 
myself!"  His  voice  dropped  to  a  whine  once  more.  "I've 
told  you  all  I  know,  Mr.  Harvey ;  I've  thrown  myself  abso- 
lutely on  your  discretion,  your  mercy!  For  God's  sake 
keep  my  entanglement  with  the  woman  from  becoming 
known !  I  haven't  the  least  idea  who  killed  her  or  the  mo- 
tive for  the  crime,  and  I  don't  want  to  know!  I  want  to 
wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  affair  and  forget  it,  if  I  can ! 
I'm  a  sick  man,  Mr.  Harvey.  You'll  do  what  you  can  for 
me?" 

"It  may  be  necessary  for  you  to  repeat  what  you  have 
told  me  to  Chief  Burke,  but  I  think  I  can  promise  you  that 
for  the  present  at  least  your  engagement  and  the  gift  of  the 


106  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

pearls  to  Mrs.  Hartshorne  will  not  be  given  out  to  the 
press."  Paul  rose  once  more.  "If  you  can  recall  any  hint 
which  Mrs.  Hartshorne  may  have  dropped  as  to  her  past  I 
hope  you  will  communicate  with  me." 

"I  shall  do  so,  Mr.  Harvey,  but  I  doubt  that  I  will  be 
able  to  help  you.  Ever  since  the  news  came  of  the  murder 
I  have  sought  in  my  own  mind  for  a  possible  clue,  but  none 
presents  itself.  I  cannot  remember  a  single  reference  to 
her  past  life  from  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  lips."  Braddock  rose 
also  and  held  out  a  tremulous  hand.  "I — I  shall  be  eternally 
grateful  if  you  will  keep  my  connection  with  the  whole 
frightful  affair  from  becoming  known." 

Paul  bowed  stiffly  and  withdrew.  The  same  cold  disgust 
which  Miss  Adare  had  voiced  arose  within  him  at  the  blatant 
hypocrisy  he  was  encountering  at  every  hand.  The  dead 
woman,  for  all  her  cleverness,  had  made  no  real  impression 
against  the  adamant  self-interest  of  those  with  whom  she 
had  sought  to  ally  herself.  With  unconscious  unanimity 
they  seemed  to  have  virtually  arraigned  themselves  on  the 
side  of  the  murderer  himself,  to  help  him  keep  his  secret, 
lest  something  noisome  be  unearthed  which  might  con- 
taminate them. 

One  more  interview  remained  before  Paul  proposed  mak- 
ing his  report  to  the  Chief  and  as  he  taxied  toward  the  im- 
posing Bachelors'  Club,  where  Cornelius  Swarthmore  main- 
tained apartments,  he  mentally  correlated  the  result  of  the 
day's  investigation.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  undoubtedly 
taken  fright  at  the  direct  questioning  of  Beatrice  Ledyard, 
had  read  in  it  the  first  gathering  clouds  of  the  storm  of 
gossip  and  criticism  which  might  demolish  all  she  had  built 
up  and  end  by  defeating  what  plan  she  had  made  and 
ostracizing  her;  she  had  decided  to  flee  before  it,  to  sell 
her  house  and  strike  out  for  fresh  territory,  when  all  un- 


WITHOUT  ALIBI 

expectedly  Wendle  Braddock  had  offered  a  sure  means  of 
turning  possible  defeat  to  victory.  And  with  the  first  taste 
of  triumph,  the  cup  had  been  dashed  from  her  lips ! 

But  by.  whom?  Why  had  she  left  the  dance  so  secretly, 
and  who  had  followed  her  and  fired  the  shot  which  solved 
her  problems  for  all  time,  leaving  a  greater,  inexplicable 
one?  Someone  of  all  the  scores  who  had  packed  the  Led- 
yard  house  must  hold  the  key  to  the  enigma. 

"If  you've  come  about  the  Hartshorne  case,  I've  nothing 
to  say,"  announced  Cornelius  Swarthmore  brusquely.  "I 
knew  her,  of  course;  showed  her  a  certain  amount  of  at- 
tention because  she  amused  me.  But  what  her  history  was 
and  what  enemies  she  may  have  had  she  kept  to  herself,  at 
least  as  far  as  I  was  concerned.  Do  you  want  any  fur- 
ther statement  from  me  ?" 

"Several,  Mr.  Swarthmore,"  Paul  retorted.  "You  escorted 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  to  her  home  from  the  Ledyards'  on  Tues- 
day evening.  Did  you  observe  any  abrupt  change  in  her 
demeanor  ?" 

"She  complained  of  indisposition;  a  headache,  I  think." 

"Didn't  this  headache  come  on  rather  suddenly?  Wasn't 
it  occasioned  by,  or  simulated  because  of,  something  which 
was  said  at  the  Ledyards?" 

Swarthmore  raised  his  eyes  to  the  detective  and  then 
abruptly  shifted  his  gaze. 

"I  don't  remember  that  anything  was  said  which  might 
have  disturbed  her.  The  headache  seemed  genuine  enough." 

"When  you  had  tea  with  her  at  her  home  on  the  follow- 
ing afternoon  did  she  seem  to  have  quite  recovered  her 
health  and  spirits?" 

There  was  a  pause  and  Swarthmore  chuckled  drily. 

"Quite.  I  assure  you  she  had  never  appeared  to  better 
advantage." 


io8  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"In    what   way?"     Paul    asked    quickly. 

"She  looked  remarkably  well,  and  seemed  more  vivacious 
than  usual."  Swarthmore  spoke  now  in  a  guarded  drawl. 
"Clever  little  woman,  Mrs.  Hartshorne!  Must  have  over- 
reached herself,  though.  Too  bad !  The  clever  ones  do, 
now  and  again,  don't  they?" 

"'Over-reached  herself?"  Paul  repeated  the  phrase  with 
a  rising  inflection  which  demanded  a  reply. 

"Well,  yes,"  Swarthmore  shrugged.  "Someone  must  have 
had  it  in  for  her  rather  desperately,  don't  you  think,  to  do 
what  was  done  on  Thursday  night  ?" 

"You  have  formed  an  opinion,  then,  as  to  the  manner  of 
her  death." 

"By  no  means!"  the  other  contradicted  hastily,  adding 
with  a  touch  of  malice,  "I  do  not  profess  to  be  superior  to 
the  Police  Department." 

"When  you  called  at  her  house  on  Wednesday" — Paul 
ignored  the  other's  thrust — "did  Mrs.  Hartshorne  tell  you 
that  she  thought  of  leaving  Eastopolis?" 

"She  mentioned  it,  but  I  didn't  think  she  was  in  earnest." 

"Mr.  Swarthmore,  did  you  see  Mrs.  Hartshorne  between 
Wednesday  afternoon  and  the  dance  at  the  Ledyards'  on 
the  following  evening?" 

"No." 

"You  met  her  there,  however?  Danced  with  her?  Talked 
to  her?" 

"She  arrived  late,  but  I  had  a  little  chat  with  her  in  the 
conservatory  shortly  before  I  left."  The  dissipated  lines 
about  Swarthmore's  mouth  hardened  perceptibly.  "I  hate 
a  mob  like  that.  I  took  myself  off  early." 

"Mr.  Swarthmore,  did  anything  unpleasant  occur  between 
you  and  Mrs.  Hartshorne  during  that  interview?  In  other 
words,  did  you  quarrel?" 


WITHOUT  ALIBI  109 

"I  never  quarrel  with  a  lady."  Swarthmore's  drawl  was 
insolently  exaggerated.  "There  was  no  occasion,  I  assure 
you,  in  any  event.  We  had  a  most  interesting  conversation, 
but  aside  from  that  the  evening  promised  to  be  a  bore  and 
I  left  before  supper;  about  half-past  eleven,  I  think." 

"Do  you  remember  jostling  Mr.  Wendle  Braddock  in  the 
doorway  of  the  ball-room?  Were  you  not  enraged  about 
something  at  the  moment  ?" 

"  'Enraged',  is  scarcely  the  word,  my  dear  sir."  Swarth- 
more  smiled.  "I  was  irritated,  annoyed  by  the  crush.  I 
don't  recall  Braddock  particularly,  but  if  he  was  in  my  way 
I  probably  swept  him  aside  with  little  ceremony.  By  the 
way,  how  is  Braddock  taking  this?  By  Jove,  it  must  have 
floored  him !" 

"Why?  Were  he  and  Mrs.  Hartshorne  such  close 
friends?" 

Again  the  pause.     Swarthmore  laughed  shortly. 

"Friends?  The  old  fool  was  infatuated.  Gad,  I'd  like 
to  see  his  face  now  1" 

"Are  you  sure,  Mr.  Swarthmore?  Have  you  any  proof 
of  this  infatuation?" 

"I  have  eyes,"  he  returned  brusquely.  "He's  been  dancing 
attendance  on  her  for  weeks." 

"When  you  left  the  Ledyards'  at  half  past  eleven  on 
Thursday  night,  where  did  you  go  ?" 

"I  took  a  walk."  For  the  first  time  he  seemed  to  hesi- 
tate. "I  wanted  to  get  the  odor  of  that  perfumed  menagerie 
out  of  my  nostrils.  It  was  a  wonderful  spring  night  and  I 
strolled  about  for  some  time  before  returning  to  my  rooms." 

Paul  leaned  forward. 

"For  how  long,  Mr.  Swarthmore?  What  time  did  you 
return  ?" 

"I  haven't  an  idea."    He  shrugged.    "Not  anticipating  the 


i  io  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

fact  that  it  might  become  necessary  for  me  to  establish  an 
alibi  I  took  no  account  of  time." 

"Perhaps  the  night  doorman  here  will  remember,"  Paul 
suggested. 

"Oh,  it  was  around  two  o'clock,  I  imagine."  Swarthmore 
spoke  carelessly,  but  his  face  flushed. 

"In  the  intervening  two  hours  and  a  half  you  did  not 
stop  anywhere?  Just  strolled  about?" 

"Precisely." 

"In  what  direction?" 

"There  again  I  must  disappoint  you."  His  tone  was 
coolly  ironic.  "My  mind  was  engrossed  in  a  forthcoming 
directors'  meeting  of  my  company  and  I  took  no  note  of  the 
course  of  my  nocturnal  ramble.  To  save  you  the  trouble  of 
framing  your  question,  I  may  add  that  it  is  quite  conceivable 
I  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  Farragut  Street ;  I  may  even 
have  passed  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  house,  although  I  don't  re- 
call it.  Damaging,  isn't  it?" 

Paul  rose. 

"Did  you  encounter  any  acquaintance  during  your  walk, 
Mr.  Swarthmore?" 

"None.  You'll  have  to  take  my  word  for  it,  but  in  the 
event  that  you  don't  you'll  find  me  here.  However,  I  can 
assure  you  that  I  didn't  kill  Mrs,  Hartshornc," 


Chapter  X. 
THE  CONSERVATORY  DOOR. 

it  A  ND  that  is  where  we  stand,"  Paul  concluded  his 
/•\  report  to  Chief  Burke.  "Some  urgent  message 

-*-  •*•  must  have  reached  Mrs.  Hartshorne  or  some  sign 
warned  her  of  trouble  to  cause  her  to  slip  away  from  the 
dance  so  quietly.  That's  the  crux  of  the  whole  matter. 
Where  did  she  go  when  she  left  the  Ledyards'  ?" 

"Home,  of  course!"  The  Chief  stared.  "You  don't 
think  she  had  an  appointment,  and  went  in  all  that  regalia 
to  keep  it,  do  you  ?" 

Paul  smiled. 

"It  is  within  the  range  of  possibility,"  he  retorted.  "There 
are  one  or  two  little  points  you've  missed,  Chief." 

"Have  I,  indeed !"  The  other  snorted.  "Are  you  holding 
out  on  me,  Paul,  for  a  grand-stand  play?" 

"No.  You  wouldn't  have  called  me  in  on  the  case  if  you 
hadn't  expected  me  to  dig  up  a  thing  or  two  that  escaped  the 
rest  of  you,"  Paul  responded  good-naturedly.  "I've  got  an 
idea  that  I  want  to  test  before  I  discuss  it,  that's  all.  Did 
the  Coroner  report  yet  on  his  autopsy?" 

"Yes.  That's  why  I'm  sure  you  are  on  a  wrong  steer  if 
you  think  Mrs.  Hartshorne  went  to  any  rendezvous  after 
leaving  the  Ledyards' ;  there  wasn't  time.  Dr.  Cravenshaw 
says  she  must  have  been  dead  since  around  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  maybe  earlier.  The  bullet  was  a  thirty-two 
and  fits  her  pistol,  all  right.  She  got  it  straight  through  the 

ill 


1 12  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

heart  and  must  have  died  instantly,  without  even  a  gasp." 

Paul  nodded. 

"I've  got  to  fix  the  time  she  left  the  Ledyards',"  he  re- 
marked. "I'm  going  back  there  later  to  interview  the 
servants;  the  maid  in  attendance  in  the  ladies'  dressing- 
room  should  know  when  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  cloak  was  re- 
moved. I  want  to  get  the  general  arrangement  of  the 
rooms,  too.  Some  outsider  must  have  approached  Mrs. 
Hartshorne,  and  if  they  didn't  come  in  on  a  purchased 
ticket  I've  got  to  find  out  how  she  could  have  been  reached." 

"You  are  eliminating  Cornelius  Swarthmore,  then,  in 
spite  of  his  lame  account  of  how  he  passed  the  time  after  he 
left  the  dance?"  the  Chief  asked  in  a  disappointed  tone. 

"Swarthmore  is  no  fool,"  Paul  returned.  "He  has  had 
plenty  of  time  to  frame  an  alibi,  and  money  to  produce  a 
string  of  witnesses  if  he  had  thought  it  worth  while.  His 
story  sounds  fishy,  I  admit,  and  if  he  were  a  different  kind 
of  man  it  would  be  conceivable  that  he  had  formed  an 
opinion  as  to  the  real  culprit  and  was  trying  to  draw  our 
suspicion  in  order  to  give  them  time  to  save  themselves, 
but  he's  the  ruthless,  predatory  type.  Self-sacrifice  is  out- 
side his  category.  I've  no  doubt  that  he  was  as  infatuated 
as  Braddock;  it  is  highly  probable  that  he  was  jealous  and 
quarreled  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne  in  the  conservatory,  leav- 
ing the  house  in  a  rage  and  walking  off  his  black  mood  for 
the  next  hour  or  two.  If  her  death  has  cut  him  up  any, 
he  has  schooled  himself  not  to  show  it.  He  did  not  manifest 
the  slightest  regret  or  interest  in  the  identity  of  the  mur- 
derer; but  he  seemed  to  find  cause  for  a  grim  sort  of 
amusement  at  Braddock's  expense." 

"I  guess  it  lets  him  out,"  the  Chief  admitted  grudgingly. 
"I  suppose  you  saw  the  panning  we  got  in  the  newspapers 
this  afternoon  for  not  getting  results?  If  nothing  further 


THE  CONSERVATORY  DOOR  1 13 

develops  we'll  have  to  get  the  Coroner  to  hold  Matilde  at 
the  inquest  as  accessory  after  the  fact;  she  discovered  the 
body  and  failed  to  give  the  alarm,  and  that  will  stall  us 
along  until  she  comes  up  for  a  hearing.  But  for  the  Lord's 
sake,  Paul,  start  something!  We've  got  the  next  election 
to  think  of !" 

"I'd  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  Matilde.  Will  you 
have  her  brought  up?"  Paul  asked.  "You  haven't  been 
able  to  get  anything  more  out  of  her,  have  you?" 

"No."  The  Chief  pressed  a  buzzer  on  his  desk.  "She 
sticks  to  her  story  and  nothing  can  shake  her;  coolest 
proposition  I've  tackled  in  many  a  day." 

Matilde,  when  she  appeared,  bore  out  this  assertion.  Her 
sallow  face  was  impassively  devoid  of  expression.  She 
waited  calmly  with  her  beady  black  eyes  fastened  upon 
Paul. 

"You  have  told  me  that  you  were  born  in  Peronne, 
Matilde,"  he  began.  "What  year?" 

"In  'seventy-six,  Monsieur."    The  reply  was  prompt. 

"You  have  relatives  living?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Monsieur.  There  was  an  uncle  and 
cousins  before  this  war,  but  now — !"  she  shrugged. 

"No  one  else  ?    No  brothers  or  sisters  ?" 

"No  one  else,  Monsieur."    Her  eyes  shifted  and  fell. 

"You  came  to  this  country  nine  years  ago.  On  what 
steamer?" 

"On  a  private  yacht,  Monsieur,"  she  paused.  "The  Belle- 
Elise  of  Monsieur  Felix  Courthier.  I  was  maid  to 
Madame." 

"What  positions  have  you  held  since  ?" 

"Several,  Monsieur.  I  left  Madame  Courthier  to  go  to 
a  widow,  Madame  Elmer  Smith  of  Chicago.  For  three 
years  I  was  with  her,  then  she  went  abroad  to  live.  She 


H4  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

has  married,  I  believe,  an  Italian."  Again  there  was  a 
pause  and  Matilde  made  a  little  helpless  gesture  with  her 
hands.  "After  that  there  were  many  positions — I  cannot 
remember!  One  lady  I  did  not  please,  another  would  not 
pay,  another  was  indiscreet;  I  should  have  been  witness  in 
a  divorce  had  I  remained.  What  would  you?  Then  I 
engage  myself  to  Madame  Merignac,  the  old  lady  who  died 
last  summer." 

"She  was  French?" 

"But  no,  Monsieur.    She  was  of  the  South." 

There  was  a  shade  of  difference  in  her  tone  and  her  eyes 
would  not  meet  his. 

Paul  asked  quickly: 

"From  New  Orleans?" 

"I  think  that  is  the  name  of  the  city,  but  I  am  not  sure." 

"You  have  never  been  to  New  Orleans?"  Paul  gazed  at 
her  steadily. 

"No,  Monsieur."    A  faint  color  had  crept  into  her  cheeks. 

"Matilde,  you  were  supervisor  of  the  linen  room  at  the 
Belmonde  Hotel  in  New  York  when  Mrs.  Hartshorne  en- 
gaged you,  were  you  not?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur."    She  raised  her  eyes  at  last. 

"Your  position  was  not  one  which  would  have  brought 
you  ordinarily  into  contact  with  the  guests.  How  did  you 
meet  her?" 

"There  was  a  complaint  about  the  quality  of  the  linen 
on  Madame's  bed.  I  went  to  her  apartments  to  attend  to 
it  and  Madame  was  interested  in  me.  She  was  most  kind, 
most  sympathetic ;  she  persuaded  me  to  tell  her  of  my  diffi- 
culties, my  illness,  how  impossible  it  had  been  for  me  to 
obtain  the  position  to  which  I  was  accustomed.  Madame 
liked  me  and  took  me  for  her  maid." 

"You  are  quite  sure,  Matilde,  that  there  had  been  a  key 


THE  CONSERVATORY  DOOR  115 

in  the  door  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  bedroom  here  prior  to 
her  death?" 

"It  was  there  on  Wednesday  evening,  Monsieur,  for 
when  Madame  retired  she  locked  herself  in  as  usual ;  she 
was  forced  to  rise  to  admit  me  with  her  breakfast  tray  in 
the  morning.  I  did  not  observe  whether  it  was  there  or  not 
when  I  prepared  the  room  for  Madame's  return  on  Thurs- 
day night." 

With  this  Matilde  was  dismissed.  Paul  observed  to  the 
Chief: 

"I  wish  you  would  give  Lumsden  a  complete  description 
of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  jewels,  sir,  and  let  him  go  to  New 
York  and  see  if  he  can  trace  them ;  find  out  if  any  of  them 
were  purchased  there  and  also  if  she  sold  others  along 
Maiden  Lane." 

"I'll  start  him  at  once,  but  what's  the  idea?"  the  Chief 
demanded. 

"The  jewels  are  the  only  link  in  our  hands  which  connect 
her  with  the  past.  Just  because  she  chose  to  make  a  mys- 
tery of  it  is  no  proof  that  we  shall  find  the  motives  for 
this  crime  in  her  history." 

From  Headquarters,  armed  with  a  blanket  warrant,  Paul 
returned  again  to  the  Ledyard  residence.  The  same  lugu- 
briously correct  butler  who  had  admitted  him  in  the  morn- 
ing opened  the  door,  but  stood  blocking  the  entrance  de- 
precatingly. 

"Mrs.  Ledyard  is  not  at  home,  sir." 

"I  did  not  come  to  see  Mrs.  Ledyard.  What  is  your 
name?" 

"Hickson,  sir."  The  man  evinced  surprise  not  unmixed 
with  discomfiture. 

"Hickson,  I'm  from  Headquarters.  Were  you  on  duty 
here  on  Thursday  evening?" 


ii6  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Excuse  me,  sir."  Hickson's  perturbation  increased, 
but  he  spoke  firmly.  "I  shall  have  to  ask  Miss  Ledyard  if 
I  am  to  answer  questions.  Colonel  Ledyard  has  not  re- 
turned yet  and  in  his  absence  and  Mrs.  Ledyard's — " 

"Ask  Miss  Ledyard  if  she  will  see  me." 

Hickson  stepped  aside  with  an  air  of  defeat  and  ushering 
Paul  into  the  drawing-room  departed  upon  his  errand. 

After  a  lengthy  pause,  there  was  a  swish  of  silken  skirts 
upon  the  stairs  and  a  young  woman,  clad  in  a  clinging 
gown  of  soft  green,  confronted  the  detective  in  the  door- 
way. She  was  tall  and  slender,  with  a  wealth  of  deep  red 
hair  and  topaz  eyes  which  reminded  him  of  those  of  some 
tawny  cat.  Curiously  feline,  too,  were  her  slow  grace  of 
movement  and  the  poise  of  her  lissom  body. 

"I  am  Miss  Ledyard.  I  was  under  the  impression  that 
my  mother  had  told  you  all  we  knew  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
this  morning;  that  is,  if  you  have  come  about  the  Hart- 
shorne case?" 

Paul  bowed. 

"Mrs.  Ledyard  replied  to  my  questions,  but  I  should  like 
some  additional  information." 

"I  am  sorry,  but  I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  help  you.  I 
know  no  more  than  my  mother." 

"You  know  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  past  before  she  came 
here  has  remained  a  mystery;  you  were  the  first  to  ques- 
tion it,  Miss  Ledyard,  to  ask  why  she  had  been  received 
without  credentials,  merely  because  of  her  personality  and 
financial  assets.  What  cause  did  she  give  you  after  all 
these  months  for  adopting  such  an  attitude?" 

Beatrice  Ledyard's  eyes  narrowed.  Two  pointed,  very 
white  teeth  showed  in  the  curl  of  her  lip. 

"No  cause  whatever.  The  woman  was  merely  an  ac- 
quaintance to  whom  I  had  given  absolutely  no  thought. 


THE  CONSERVATORY  DOOR  117 

My  mother  was  most  enthusiastic  about  her  work  for  war 
charities,  and  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  as  strange  that 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  should  give  her  time  and  efforts,  yet 
sedulously  avoid  being  seen  in  large  gatherings;  it  savored 
of  concealment  more  than  diffidence,  for  she  was  not  at  all 
a  shy  or  self-effacing  person.  So  I  wondered,  naturally. 
I  trust  that  explanation  is  sufficiently  comprehensive." 

She  spoke  coldly,  but  her  tone  shook  with  an  emotion 
not  altogether  scorn  or  bitterness,  which  Paul  was  at  a 
loss  to  fathom. 

"Quite,  thank  you."  He  smiled  and  then  his  gravity  re- 
turned. "Mrs.  Hartshorne  appeared  at  the  Red  Cross  dance 
here,  however." 

"Yes.  I  nodded  to  her,  but  the  crowd  was  so  great  that 
we  did  not  actually  meet."  She  made  a  motion  as  if  to 
turn  to  the  door.  "Really,  I  cannot  discuss  this!  The 
subject  is  too  distressing.  And  I  can  tell  you  nothing, 
nothing!  I  am  sure  that  if  my  father  were  at  home  he 
would  not  permit  me  to  be  so  harassed  and  annoyed !" 

"I  have  no  intention  of  annoying  you  further,  Miss 
Ledyard,"  Paul  assured  her  suavely.  "There  are  a  few 
questions  I  wish  to  put  to  your  servants  who  were  in  atten- 
dance at  the  dance,  but  if  you  prefer  it  I  will  wait  here 
until  Colonel  Ledyard  returns." 

"Our  servants?"  she  repeated.  "The  waiters  for  the 
supper  were  provided  by  a  caterer " 

"But  your  butler  officiated  in  his  usual  capacity,  did  he 
not?  And  one  of  your  maids  must  have  been  in  the  ladies' 
cloak-room.  They  are  the  ones  I  wish  to  speak  to." 

Miss  Ledyard  rang  the  bell  and  almost  instantly  the 
door  opened  and  Hickson  stood  expectant  on  the  threshold. 
Paul  smiled  to  himself;  it  was  apparent  that  this  most  ex- 
cellent of  butlers  was  not  above  eavesdropping. 


ii8  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Hickson,  this  gentleman  would  like  to  ask  you — "  his 
mistress  began,  but  Paul  intervened. 

"The  maid  first,  if  you  please,  Miss  Ledyard." 

She  bit  her  lips. 

"Which  one  would  you  care  to  see?  The  reception  room 
downstairs  was  used  as  a  cloak-room  for  the  strangers  who 
came  and  one  of  the  house  maids  was  stationed  there  to 
check  their  wraps.  Our  personal  friends  were  taken  up- 
stairs and  my  mother's  maid  attended  them." 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  the  one  who  waited  upon  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne." 

Miss  Ledyard  turned  to  the  butler. 

"Send  Louise  here." 

"And  you  need  not  wait  immediately  outside  the  door," 
Paul  supplemented  pleasantly.  "Miss  Ledyard  will  ring 
when  she  requires  you." 

The  chagrined  Hickson  withdrew  and  Miss  Ledyard 
turned  in  sudden  fury  on  her  visitor. 

"How  dare  you  give  orders  to  our  servants  ?"  she  stormed. 
"My  father  shall  complain  of  your  insolence  at  Head- 
quarters." 

Paul  drew  a  folded  paper  from  his  pocket. 

"I  have  here  a  blanket  warrant  for  your  entire  house- 
hold, including  the  members  of  your  family,"  he  announced 
quietly.  "Would  you  care  to  see  it?  I  trust  you  will  not 
make  it  necessary  for  me  to  use  it." 

"A  warrant — !"  she  gasped.  "Surely  you — you  don't 
think  we  had  anything  to  do  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  death !" 

"She  was  last  seen  alive  in  your  house,"  he  responded. 
"You  must  realize  that  under  these  circumstances,  Miss 
Ledyard,  a  very  serious  interpretation  would  be  placed 
upon  any  attempt  of  yours  to  block  my  investigation." 

"I  have  no  intention  of   doing  so!"  she   retorted,     "I 


THE  CONSERVATORY  DOOR  119 

merely  wish  to  avoid  any  further  personal  annoyance!" 

A  nervous  tap  sounded  upon  the  door. 

"In  that  case,"  Paul  smiled.  "I  will  not  detain  you  while 
I  question  your  maid." 

"Thank  you!"  There  was  a  glint  of  green  fire  in  her 
smoldering  eyes.  "I  prefer  to  remain.  Come  in,  Louise !" 

Louise,  pretty  and  vapid  and  quite  obviously  frightened 
out  of  what  wits  she  possessed,  sidled  a  step  or  two  into 
the  room  and  halted  as  if  poised  for  instant  flight. 

"You  are  Mrs.  Ledyard's  maid?"  Paul  asked  in  a  re- 
assuring tone. 

She  nodded,  speechlessly. 

"You  were  in  attendance  upstairs  upon  the  ladies  who 
came  to  the  dance  last  Thursday?" 

"Y-yes,  sir." 

"You  knew   Mrs.  Hartshorne  by  sight,  did  you  not?" 

The  girl  shrank  from  him  at  mention  of  the  dead  woman's 
name  and  her  colorless  face  went  still  more  pale. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir!    The — the  poor  lady  came  here  often." 

"You  took  her  cloak  from  her  Thursday  night,  did  you 
not?  Do  you  remember,  Louise,  what  it  was  like?" 

Miss  Ledyard's  gown  rustled  as  she  made  a  swift  move- 
ment of  surprise.  The  maid's  round  eyes  were  staring  at 
Paul  as  if  hypnotized. 

"Yes,  sir.  It  was  a  soft  blue  brocaded  velvet  with  a  big 
cape  collar  and  cuffs  of  ermine.  I  couldn't  forget  it  be- 
cause I  had  such  a  fright  about  it !" 

"What  sort  of  a  fright?" 

Miss  Ledyard  was  tapping  her  foot  impatiently  at  the 
triviality  of  his  questioning,  but  Paul  ignored  her  ill-humor. 

"I  thought  it  was  stolen,  sir!"  Louise  faltered.  "I  hung 
it  with  the  rest  in  the  wardrobe  of  the  corner  guest  room 
that  was  being  used  as  a  dressing-room.  I'd  been  told  to 


120  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

stay  there,  but  it  got  late  and  nobody  else  arrrived,  and  the 
music  just  drove  me  crazy,  sir!  When  they  were  all  at 
supper  I  stole  down  the  back  stairs  and  peeped  in  the  big 
empty  ball-room,  listening;  I  couldn't  have  been  gone  more 
than  five  minutes.  After  the  supper  some  of  the  ladies 
came  up  for  a  bit  of  powder,  and  one  of  them — Mrs. 
Cowles,  it  was — wanted  her  cigarette  case,  that  was  in 
the  pocket  of  her  cloak.  I  had  hung  Mrs.  Hartshorne's 
cloak  right  next  to  it,  but  it  was  gone ! — Mrs.  Hartshorne's, 
I  mean.  My  heart  was  up  in  my  mouth,  but  Mrs.  Cowles 
was  going  on  so  about  the  conservatory  door " 

"What  about  the  conservatory  door?"  Paul  interposed 
swiftly. 

"It  wouldn't  open.  She  thought  Colonel  Ledyard  had 
ordered  it  locked  just  after  supper  to  prevent  strangers  from 
picking  his  orchids  for  souvenirs,  and  she  was  put  out 
about  it.  I  didn't  let  on  before  the  ladies  how  frightened 
I  was,  but  when  they  had  all  gone  back  to  the  ball-room  I 
flew  down  to  Mary,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  other  cloak- 
room, and  asked  her  if  the  cloak  had  been  brought  down 
there.  She  said  'no'  and  I  went  back,  so  sick  with  fear  I 
could  hardly  get  up  stairs,  for  with  hundreds  of  strangers 
in  the  house  I  was  sure  it  had  been  stolen  and  I  would 
be  to  blame,  of  course,  for  leaving  my  post.  I  don't  know 
how  I  ever  got  through  that  night,  expecting  every  minute 
that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  would  come  to  claim  her  cloak  and  I 
would  have  to  say  that  it  had  been  taken. 

"But  she  didn't  come,  though  everyone  else  did.  When 
they  had  all  gone,  it  finally  came  over  me  that  she  must 
have  taken  the  cloak  herself  and  gone  home  while  I  was 
downstairs  that  time  during  supper.  It  served  me  right  for 
disobeying  my  orders,  but  I  won't  forget  the  worry  of  it  to 
my  dying  day !" 


THE  CONSERVATORY  DOOR  121 

She  paused  for  breath,  and  Paul  beamed  upon  her. 

"You  are  sure  the  cloak  was  taken  during  the  supper 
hour;  not  just  mislaid  and  removed  later,  when  you  went 
down  to  speak  to  Mary,  perhaps?" 

"No,  sir,"  she  responded  doggedly.  "It  was  gone  when 
I  came  back  that  first  time,  for  I  hunted  high  and  low  for 
it." 

"Thank  you,  Louise ;  that  is  all  I  wanted  to  know.  You 
may  go." 

The  little  maid  needed  no  second  permission.  As  she 
slipped  from  the  room  Paul  turned  to  Miss  Ledyard.  The 
tapping  of  her  foot  had  ceased  and  she  sat  tense  and  im- 
movable. 

"Will  you  ring  for  the  butler  now,  please,  or  shall  I?" 

She  motioned  toward  the  bell,  and  he  pressed  it. 

"You  did  not  see  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  yourself,  after  the 
supper  hour?"  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head  and  they  waited  in  silence  for  the 
coming  of  Hickson. 

When  he  appeared,  wearing  a  consciously  virtuous  ex- 
pression, Paul  began  without  preamble. 

"What  is  the  rest  of  your  name,  Hickson?" 

"Alfred  George,  sir." 

"English?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Twenty-eight  years  in  this  country,  sir,  and 
twenty  of  them  in  service  here  at  Colonel  Ledyard 's."  He 
spoke  with  pride. 

"Married,  Hickson?" 

"Widower,  sir.  Two  sons  at  the  front  and  the  third, 
William,  who  is  chauffeur  now  for  Mrs.  Ledyard,  has  a 
shattered  knee  from  Ypres,  sir." 

"What  were  your  duties  at  the  Red  Cross  dance  here 
on  Thursday?" 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I  took  the  tickets  at  the  door,  sir,  and  then  generally 
overlooked  the  waiters  from  the  caterer,  and  kept  an  eye  on 
things." 

"How  long  were  you  posted  at  the  door?" 

"Until  eleven,  sir,  or  a  bit  after.  No  one  arrived  later 
than  that." 

"You  remember  Mrs.  Hwrtshorne's  arrival  with  the 
Gaylors?" 

"Perfectly,  sir.    That  was  about  half-past  ten." 

"Did  you  observe  when  she  left?" 

"No,  sir.  I  did  not  see  Mrs.  Hartshorne  again  after  she 
entered." 

"Hickson,  did  you  lock  the  conservatory  door?" 

There  was  a  pause  during  which  Hickson  glanced  at  his 
young  mistress  in  surprise. 

"No,  sir,"  he  responded  at  length.  "I  heard  nothing  of 
it,  sir.  There  must  be  some  mistake." 

"You  know  nothing  of  its  having  been  locked  during  or 
just  after  the  supper  hour?" 

"No,  sir,"  responded  the  butler  firmly.     "And  if  you'll 
excuse  me,  sir,  you  must  have  been  misinformed.     The 
door  may  have  stuck,  but  it  wasn't  locked ;  there's  been  no 
key  to  it  for  a  long  time.    It  stood  wide  open  when  I  went 
about  putting  out  the  lights  after  all  the  guests  had  gone." 
Beatrice  Ledyard's  tense  figure  relaxed  suddenly  and  she 
uttered  a  cry  of  relief. 
"Here  is  my  father,  now !" 


Chapter  XI. 
"IF  I  HAD  ONLY  KNOWN!" 

A  KEY  had  rattled  in  the  great  entrance  door  which 
opened  and  closed  with  a  slam  and  footsteps  sounded 
down  the  hall. 

"Father,  will  you  come  in  here,  please?"  Miss  Ledyard's 
voice  was  high  pitched  and  strained.  "There  is  a  man  from 
Police  Headquarters " 

"What's  this?"  Colonel  Ledyard's  bald  head  appeared  in 
the  doorway.  "Bless  my  soul,  we're  not  going  to  get  mixed 
up  in  that  Hartshorne  affair,  are  we?  Why  didn't  you  call 
at  my  office,  young  man,  if  you  want  any  information  about 
Mrs.  Hartshorne's  stocks?" 

"That  is  not  what  I  am  here  for,  Colonel  Ledyard." 
Paul  turned  to  him.  "My  name  is  Harvey ;  I  am  a  special 
investigator  called  in  on  this  case  by  the  Chief  of  Police." 

"Well,  Mr.  Harvey,  this  is  a  most  shocking  tragedy,  of 
course,  but  I  cannot  see  what  information  you  hope  to  gain 
here."  The  Colonel  handed  his  hat  and  stick  to  Hickson  and 
dismissed  him  with  a  nod. 

"As  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  discover,  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne was  last  seen  alive  in  your  house,"  Paul  explained 
patiently.  "I  have  just  learned  approximately  what  time  she 
left,  but  not  the  manner  of  her  going1  nor  if  she  were  ac- 
companied by  anyone  or  alone."  , 

"He  says  he  has  a  warrant  for  our  arrest  1"  broke  in  Miss 
Ledyard  half -hysterically. 

123 


124  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Bosh!"  The  Colonel's  stout  figure  bridled  like  that  of 
an  angry  game-cock.  "This  is  preposterous!  On  what 
trumped-up  charge  have  you  come  here  to  try  to  bluff  us?" 

"Here  is  the  warrant,  Colonel  Ledyard !"  Paul  extended 
the  document.  "I  have  no  intention  of  serving  it  unless  I 
meet  with  opposition  to  my  necessary  investigation  here." 

"H'm !"  The  Colonel  unfolded  the  paper  and  after  glanc- 
ing hastily  over  it  he  handed  it  back  as  if  it  burned  his 
fingers.  He  turned  to  his  daughter.  "Trix,  I  think  you  had 
better  leave  us.  I  will  attend  to  this  gentleman." 

"Yes,  father."  Her  tone  was  submissive,  but  she  moved 
slowly  and  with  obvious  reluctance  to  the  door. 

"Now,  Mr.  Harvey,"  the  Colonel  began  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone ;  "What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  I  have  no  desire  to 
impede  the  course  of  justice,  but  you  are  barking  up  the 
wrong  tree  if  you  look  to  get  evidence  here." 

"Nevertheless,  I  should  like  to  examine  the  arrangement 
of  such  of  your  rooms  as  were  used  during  the  dance  on 
Thursday  night,"  responded  Paul.  "I  wonder  if  you  would 
be  good  enough  to  conduct  me  yourself?  Could  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne  have  departed  by  any  other  door  than  the  front  en- 
trance, in  the  event  that  she  had  wanted  to  slip  away  un- 
noticed?" 

"I  never  considered  that.  My  wife  did  think  it  odd, 
when  we  were  talking  the  affair  over  last  night,  that  no  one 
seemed  to  know  when  Mrs.  Hartshorne  left.  There  is  a 
door  leading  from  the  conservatory  down  some  steps  into 
the  strip  of  garden  between  the  ball-room  extension  and 
the  next  house,  but  it  has  been  locked  and  bolted  since  last 
autumn,  and  sealed  with  weather  stripping  to  prevent  the 
cold  from  getting  in  on  my  orchid  collection."  He  turned 
to  the  hallway.  "Come  along,  Mr.  Harvey.  I'll  be  glad  to 
have  you  see  for  yourself." 


"IF  I  HAD  ONLY  KNOWN  I"  125 

Paul  followed  him  through  the  succession  of  long  stately 
apartments,  noting  the  position  of  each.  The  windows 
were  all  on  a  level  about  ten  feet  from  the  ground  outside 
and  nowhere  did  balcony,  ledge  or  trellised  vine  offer  foot- 
hold for  a  possible  intruder. 

"This  is  the  ball-room."  Colonel  Ledyard  threw  open 
the  wide  double  doors  and  pressing  a  switch  flooded  the 
great,  high-ceilinged  room  with  a  myriad  clusters  of  light 
which  were  reflected  in  the  glassily  polished  floor.  "The 
stage  has  been  set  up  again,  you  see,  at  the  farther  end. 
We  usually  place  the  orchestra  there,  but  for  this  big  semi- 
public  affair  when  every  extra  inch  of  dancing  space  was 
desirable,  Mrs.  Ledyard  had  the  stage  taken  down,  and 
stationed  the  music  there  in  that  alcove ;  there  was  no  need 
to  worry  about  the  acoustics  for  a  jazz  band." 

"And  this — ?"  Paul  motioned  toward  a  doorway  in  the 
wall  at  a  right-angle  from  the  alcove. 

"The  door  to  the  conservatory."  The  Colonel  waddled 
toward  it  as  he  spoke  over  his  shoulder. 

"Do  you  happen  to  know  whether  it  was  locked  during 
a  part  of  Thursday  evening  or  not?"  Paul  asked  as  he 
followed. 

His  host  turned  with  some  heat. 

"I  wish  to  heavens  it  had  been!"  he  exclaimed.  "My 
orchids  have  cost  me  thousands  of  dollars  and  were  the 
pride  of  my  life.  And  the  best  of  them  are  ruined !  Some 
vandal  trod  them  down.  Look  here!" 

He  led*  the  way  into  the  dim,  cool,  vault-like  apartment 
and  pointed  to  a  mass  of  great  purple  and  brown  mottled 
bloom  which  hung  wilted  and  dying  from  crushed,  broken 
stems. 

"I've  nursed  them  as  a  mother  would  a  child!"  he 
lamented.  "Sat  up  nights  with  them  to  keep  the  tempera- 


126  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

ture  just  right  and  brought  a  horticulturist  up  all  the  way 
from  Central  America  to  try  out  a  new  method  of  grafting 
he  had  devised — and  now  look  at  them !" 

But  Paul  gave  no  second  glance  to  his  host's  hobby. 
He  was  gazing  about  the  glass-domed  room  with  its  artis- 
tically massed  flowers  and  narrow  tiled  paths  winding  cun- 
ningly about  through  aisles  of  arching  palms.  A  minature 
fountain  tinkled  in  the  heart  of  the  delicate  greenery  and 
rustic  seats  were  tucked  invitingly  into  secluded  nooks  and 
corners.  Despite  its  beauty  there  was  something  sinister  in 
the  atmosphere,  damp  and  heavy  with  the  cloying  mingled 
perfumes,  which  sent  a  chill  to  his  bones.  He  shivered 
involuntarily. 

From  where  he  stood  with  his  back  to  the  orchid  bank, 
Paul  faced  directly  upon  the  row  of  long  French  windows 
set  so  closely  together  as  to  give  the  impression  of  an  un- 
broken wall  of  glass  that  looked  out  upon  the  strip  of 
garden.  At  the  farther  end  to  the  right  stood  a  narrow 
closed  door,  doubtless  the  one  of  which  Colonel  Ledyard 
had  spoken. 

Paul's  eyes  turned  to  the  left,  toward  the  larger,  opened 
door  which  led  into  the  ball-room.  In  a  direct  line  with 
his  gaze  was  the  alcove  and  a  stretch  of  the  damask-hung 
wall.  He  turned  again  to  the  row  of  windows. 

"Where  any  of  these  open  on  the  night  of  the  dance?" 

"No.  The  ventilation  came  from  a  sliding  pane  of  glass 
or  two  in  the  dome."  The  Colonel  turned  with  a  sigh  from 
his  mutilated  orchids  and  started  down  the  walk.  "Come 
and  examine  the  door  for  yourself.  It  hasn't  been  tampered 
with,  you  see.  There's  the  padding  and  weather  stripping 
I  had  put  in  last  autumn,  and  the  chain  and  padlock  are 
still  on,  as  well  as  the  bolts.  It  could  only  have  been  opened 
if  all  that  stuff  were  pried  loose  first." 


"IF  I  HAD  ONLY  KNOWN !"  127 

Paul  nodded  as  though  satisfied  and  led  the  way  himself 
back  through  the  ball-room  and  into  the  entrance  hall. 

"Thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  Colonel  Ledyard.  I  may 
have  to  trouble  you  again  in  a  day  or  two,  but  I  won't  unless 
it's  absolutely  necessary." 

The  Colonel  waved  a  pudgy  hand. 

"That  is  all  right.  Glad  to  give  the  authorities  any  assis- 
tance I  can,  but  you  won't  find  any  clue  here,  Mr.  Harvey, 
to  what  happened  after  the  poor  little  woman  reached  her 
home.  Frightful  thing,  upon  my  soul !  I  can't  think  what 
the  motive  could  have  been ;  she  looked  no  more  capable 
of  a  history  than  a — a  maltese  kitten!  Yet  that  reticence 
of  hers — ?"  He  broke  off  and  added  nervously:  "I — I 
hope  the  Chief  of  Police  won't  consider  it  necessary  to  lay 
stress  upon  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  last  seen 
alive  here.  If  the  newspapers  get  wind  of  it  and  play  it  up 
Mrs.  Ledyard  will  be  simply  prostrated.  She  has  been 
under  a  severe  nervous  strain  ever  since  the  tragedy  be- 
came known." 

"Unless  the  special  article  chap  dopes  that  out  for  him- 
self, I  can  assure  you  that  the  Chief  will  not  tip  his  hand 
off  to  the  Press  at  this  stage  of  the  game,"  Paul  smiled. 
"Good  afternoon,  Colonel  Ledyard !" 

It  was  late  at  night  before  he  found  his  way  to  the 
modest  old-fashioned  rooms  where  he  kept  bachelor's  hall. 
The  day's  exertions  had  told  upon  his  slender  store  of 
strength  but  his  eyes  glowed  with  unabated  zeal  from 
the  shadowed  rings  which  encircled  them  and  his  brain 
seethed  with  conflicting  impressions  which  he  strove  to 
coordinate. 

Upon  leaving  the  Ledyards'  he  had  made  a  wearisome 
round  of  various  taxicab  companies  of  the  city,  but  with  no 
result.  No  cab  had  been  ordered  to  convey  Mrs,  Harts- 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 

home  to  her  home  on  the  previous  Thursday  night  and  it 
was  inconceivable  that  she  should  have  left  the  dance  and 
wandered  about  the  street  bare-headed  and  in  her  evening 
attire  until  she  picked  up  a  strolling  night-hawk.  Some 
private  conveyance  had  taken  her  to  her  home,  but  whose, 
and  after  what  possible  rendezvous  ? 

Paul  slept  fitfully  at  last,  hammering  still  in  his 
half -conscious  moments  at  the  problem  which  obsessed 
him. 

In  the  quiet  of  the  early  Sunday  morning  his  telephone 
shrilled  insistently  and  he  obeyed  its  summons  to  find  Chief 
Burke  on  the  other  end  of  the  wire. 
"Hello,  Paul?    Feel  all  right  to-day?" 
"Surely !"    His  voice  rang  out  firmly  "What's  the  news?" 
"That  little  kitchenmaid  from  Farragut  Street  has  dis- 
appeared.   Her  aunt  'phoned  in  to  Headquarters  just  now. 
You'd  better  jump  down  there  and  get  what  dope  on  it  you 
can;  it  looks  queer  to  me.    You've  got  the  address,  Sadie 
Mullen,  care  Peters,  sixteen  Sherman  Place." 

"I  get  you,  sir !  I'll  go  at  once  and  report  to  you  later." 
Dressing  hastily  and  snatching  a  cup  of  coffee  at  a 
nearby  restaurant,  Paul  boarded  a  car  for  the  address  given. 
It  proved  to  be  a  tenement  of  a  model  type,  clean  and  airy, 
with  straggling  pots  of  geraniums  on  more  than  one  win- 
dow-sill, and  an  air  of  respectability  and  civic  pride  despite 
its  poverty. 

Paul  mounted  the  narrow  stairs  and  knocked  upon  the 
door  labeled  "Peters." 

A  tall,  gaunt  woman  with  iron-gray  hair  and  a  look  of 
strained  anxiety  in  her  faded  eyes  admitted  him  and  ushered 
him  into  a  tiny,  spotless  kitchen. 

"You  are  Mrs.  Peters?  I've  come  from  Police  Head- 
quarters to  learn  what  you  can  tell  me  about  your  niece, 


"IF  I  HAD  ONLY  KNOWN!"  129 

Sadie    Mullen,"    he    began    pleasantly. 

"It's  little  enough,  sir!"  she  motioned  to  a  chair.  "Do 
you  mind  speaking  low?  My  husband's  a  night-watchman 
and  he's  just  come  home  and  gone  to  bed.  I've  told  him 
Sadie  was  off  for  the  week-end  visiting  friends,  for  she's 
like  his  own  girl  and  I  don't  want  him  worried  in  case  she 
turns  up  all  right.  I  can't  think  what's  got  into  Sadie! 
She's  been  like  a  crazy  thing  ever  since  she  came  home  Fri- 
day night  with  the  news  that  her  lady  had  been  murdered. 
You'd  expect  her  to  be  sorry,  and  sick  with  the  shock  and 
fright  of  it,  too,  but  not  to  carry  on  as  if  she'd  had  a  hand 
in  it  herself,  the  silly  girl  1" 

"What  did  she  say?"  Paul  asked. 

"Nothing,  at  first,  but  just  that  somebody  had  killed  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  in  the  night.  We  couldn't  get  another  word 
out  of  her,  she  was  dumb  and  white  and  shaking  till  her 
teeth  chattered.  My  husband  got  a  paper  before  he  went 
out  to  his  job  and  that's  how  we  learned  the  details  of  it. 
Sadie  had  come  home  a  little  after  six  but  she  wouldn't  eat 
any  supper  and  shut  herself  in  her  room.  Along  about  mid- 
night she  burst  out  crying  something  terrible,  as  if  she'd 
held  in  as  long  as  she  could  and  had  to  let  go,  but  although 
she  hung  on  to  me  when  I  went  in  to  her,  I  couldn't  get  a 
word  from  her  except  one  thing  she  kept  sobbing  over  and 
over ;  'If  I'd  only  known !  If  I'd  only  known !'  " 

"Didn't  she  explain  later  what  she  meant?" 

"No,  I  got  her  quieted  down  finally  and  she  went  to 
sleep ;  but  she  must  have  been  dreaming  of  it,  for  she  started 
up  screaming  more  than  once.  She  scarcely  ate  a  bite  all 
day  yesterday  and  wouldn't  talk  to  the  reporters  when  they 
came,  or  the  neighbors,  but  hid  off  in  her  room  and  cried 
softly  to  herself.  She  seemed  to  get  better,  though,  by 
nightfall,  but  she  only  shook  her  head  when  we  tried  to 


130  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

question  her  and  she  had  that  stubborn  look  in  her  eyes 
that  I've  learned  to  reckon  with  when  she  was  a  little  girl. 
She  gets  streaks  of  that  queer,  mulish  spunk  when  she  will 
have  her  own  way  if  it  kills  her,  and  I  could  see  she'd  made 
up  her  mind  to  something,  but  little  I  guessed  what ! 

"My  husband  went  to  his  job  at  eight  o'clock  last  night, 
and  I  stepped  out  to  a  neighbor's,  just  a  few  doors  away, 
leaving  Sadie  poring  over  the  latest  'Extra'  about  the 
murder.  When  I  came  home  I  thought  she  had  gone  to  bed. 
for  her  door  was  closed  and  there  was  no  light  in  the  room, 
but  when  I  went  to  wake  her  for  early  Mass  I  found  her 
gone !" 

"She  left  no  note  or  message  for  you?"  asked  Paul. 

"No,  sir.  Her  bed  hadn't  been  slept  in  and  none  of  her 
things  were  missing  except  the  clothes  on  her  back,  but  the 
room  was  strewn  with  feathers ;  she  had  torn  open  her 
pillow  and  when  I  looked  at  it  close  I  could  see  where  she 
must  have  ripped  it  before  and  sewed  it  together  again. 
Whatever  it  was  she  had  hidden  in  there,  she  must  have 
taken  it  with  her." 

"I  should  like  to  see  her  room,  please."  Paul  rose. 

"I  haven't  had  time  to  straighten  it  yet,"  Mrs.  Peters 
hesitated.  Then  crossing  the  kitchen,  she  threw  open  a  door 
at  the  end.  "The  feathers  will  fairly  choke  you,  sir !" 

The  room  was  small,  with  a  single  window  opening  on  a 
court,  and  furnished  simply  with  a  narrow  iron  bed,  a  chair 
and  a  combination  pine  bureau  and  wash-stand.  A  crisp 
calico  curtain  suspended  from  a  shelf  bulged  with  the  gar- 
ments hanging  from  pegs  beneath  and  a  cloud  of  feathers 
from  the  torn  pillow  swirled  with  the  opening  of  the  door 
and  settled  again. 

Paul's  darting  glance  took  in  every  detail  and  rested 
finally  upon  the  small  mirror  over  the  bureau.  From  all 


"IF  I  HAD  ONLY  KNOWN !"  131 

sides  of  it  protruded  fan-like  sheafs  of  pictures  obviously 
clipped  from  newspapers  and  magazines ;  reproduced  photo- 
graphs of  simpering  girls  and  buxom  sirens,  effeminate 
youths  and  leering  satyrs  in  evening  dress. 

Paul  gestured  toward  the  improvised  gallery  and  Mrs. 
Peters  sighed. 

"The  movies !"  she  explained.  "Sadie's  just  crazy  about 
them!  She  would  have  those  pictures  up  there.  I  burned 
the  first  batch  I  saw,  but  she  got  on  one  of  those  stubborn 
fits  of  hers  and  threatened  to  leave  home  if  she  couldn't 
have  them.  After  all,  it  seemed  harmless  enough.  Sadie's 
a  good  girl,  sir;  I've  never  had  any  trouble  with  her.  She 
don't  seem  to  care  about  boys,  or  staying  out  late  nights. 
And  she  never  was  deceitful  before.  She  just  loves  pretty 
things,  like  any  other  young  girl  and  she'd  spend  her  last 
dime  for  the  movies." 

"Do  you  know  how  much  money  she  had  with  her  when 
she  went  away  last  night?" 

"Seven  dollars  and  forty  cents,"  Mrs.  Peters  responded 
promptly.  "I  thought  of  that  the  first  thing.  She  had  just 
ten  dollars  left  from  her  wages,  paid  two-and-a-half  for  a 
waist,  spent  five  cents  for  carfare  home  from  Farragut 
Street  Friday  night  and  five  cents  she  lent  me  to  make 
change  to-day  for  the  iceman." 

"What  clothes  are  missing!  What  must  she  have 
worn?" 

"Her  best."  Mrs.  Peters'  lips  set  grimly.  "A  black  hat 
she'd  trimmed  herself  with  little  French  flowers,  all  colors, 
that  poor  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  thrown  away;  a  blue  serge 
suit,  the  new  white  waist,  an  imitation  seal  neck-piece  and 
gray-topped  shoes  with  awful  high  heels.  She  couldn't  have 
walked  further  than  the  car  line  in  them.  I  don't  know  if 
she  had  gloves  or  not,  but  she  must  have  carried  her  wrist 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 

bag;  patent  leather,  it  is,  with  a  big  green  stone  in  the  top. 
Sadie  is  great  for  style,  for  all  she  is  shy  and  tongue-tied 
and  kind  of  slow. — I  can't  think  where  she  could  have  gone ! 
She's  only  got  two  or  three  friends  and  I  called  them  up 
from  the  drug-store  before  I  'phoned  the  Police.  None  of 
them  had  seen  her." 

"Did  Sadie  come  often  to  see  you  while  she  was  employed 
by  Mrs.  Hartshorne?" 

"Every  time  she  had  an  afternoon  off,"  Mrs.  Peters 
responded  loyally.  "She  might  go  to  see  her  friends  for  an 
hour  or  two,  but  she  always  came  straight  home  to  us  first. 
There  wasn't  a  wild  notion  in  her  mind,  sir,  and  I  brought 
her  up  strict;  she  don't  know  anything  about  badness  or 
excitement  or  gay  life  except  what  she's  seen  on  the  screen, 
and  she's  nothing  but  a  child  at  heart." 

"When  was  the  last  time  she  came  to  you  before  Friday 
night?" 

"The  day  before,  sir.  It  was  her  Thursday  off.  She 
got  home  early,  about  half -past  two,  and  trimmed  that  hat 
she  must  be  wearing  now.  I  went  out  with  her  to  buy  the 
white  waist  and  she  had  dinner  here  and  went  back  to  Mrs. 
Hartshorne's." 

"What  did  she  talk  about,  do  you  remember?  Did  she 
seem  happy  in  her  place  ?" 

"Well,  yes,  though  she  hates  kitchen  work,"  Mrs.  Peters 
admitted.  "I  want  to  make  a  waitress  of  her,  but  this  is  the 
first  time  she's  been  out  in  service  and  she  had  to  begin  at 
the  bottom.  She  didn't  talk  about  anything  much  on  Thurs- 
day except  Mrs.  Hartshorne;  what  beautiful  clothes  she 
wore,  and  how  lovely  she  looked  when  she  went  out,  and 
how  grand  she  kept  her  hands.  Sadie  was  sick  of  having 
her  own  hands  in  dish-water  all  the  time.  My,  how  she  ad- 
mired Mrs.  Hartshorne !  To  hear  her  talk,  you'd  think  she 


"IF  I  HAD  ONLY  KNOWN !"  133 

was  the  most  wonderful  creature  in  the  world!  I  guess 
that's  why  she  took  on  so  awful  about  the  murder,  but  it 
don't  explain  her  running  away  like  this." 

Paul  picked  up  the  limp  pillow  and  examined  it  with  no 
result  save  an  incipient  blizzard  of  down;  the  bureau 
drawers  contained  nothing  but  wearing  apparel.  Save  for  a 
hat  or  two  and  a  box  of  sewing  materials  the  shelf  was  bare. 

"Don't  worry  about  her  any  more  than  you  can  help, 
Mrs.  Peters."  Paul  took  up  his  hat  from  the  kitchen  table. 
"I've  no  doubt  that  we  can  find  her  for  you,  but  it  may  re- 
quire a  few  days.  I  don't  think  she  has  come  to  any  harm." 

"I'll  be  thankful  beyond  words  if  you  can  get  her  back 
for  me  safe  and  sound  and  without  her  uncle  knowing  what 
she's  done,"  Mrs.  Peters  responded.  "He  loves  her  like  he 
would  his  own,  but  he's  a  hard  man  in  some  ways  and  often 
I've  had  to  stand  between  his  temper  and  her  pig-headed- 
ness.  You'll  let  me  know,  sir,  as  soon  as  you've  got  trace 
of  her?  I  shan't  have  a  minute's  peace  until  I'm  sure 
nothing's  happened  to  her,  and  she's  coming  home !" 

Paul  promised  and  took  his  departure. 

At  Headquarters,  Chief  Burke  listened  to  his  report 
without  comment  until  it  was  concluded  when  he  observed : 

"Nobody  could  have  got  to  her  with  any  threat  or  bribe 
to  keep  her  out  of  the  way;  that's  a  cinch  if  she  wouldn't 
talk  to  anyone  all  day,  not  even  the  neighbors.  Maybe  she 
was  afraid  to  talk  to  them ;  afraid  she'd  tell  how  much  she 
knew.  There  might  have  been  something  in  that  newspaper 
she  was  reading  when  her  aunt  went  out  that  scared  her 
into  running  away.  But  she  won't  get  far  on  French  heels 
and  seven  dollars !" 

"I  don't  know,"  Paul  demurred.  "She's  long  on  deter- 
mination and  she  has  a  fixed  idea  in  her  head.  Her  dis- 
appearance isn't  worrying  me  any ;  I  fancy  I  could  lay  my 


134  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

hands  on  her  to-morrow,  but  I  want  to  give  her  a  little  more 
rope  and  await  developments." 

"You  could,  could  you?"  The  Chief  snorted.  "I'd  like 
to  know  where  you  get  that  stuff  ?  You'll  be  telling  me  next 
that  her  running  away  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  murder !" 

"Something  like  that,"  grinned  Paul. 

"Well,  you'll  find  yourself  wrong  for  once,  my  boy!" 
The  Chief  banged  his  desk  resoundingly.  "What  did  she 
have  hidden  in  the  pillow?  She  was  envious  of  Mrs. 
Hartshorne,  even  to  her  hands,  and  starved  for  the  kind 
of  excitement  she  had  seen  in  the  movies.  She  got  home 
early  Thursday  night  and  she  might  easily  have  let  into 
the  house  somebody  who  fooled  her  with  some  silly  romantic 
story  or  bribed  her  with  money  for  pretty  clothes.  You  can 
take  it  from  me,  Paul,  there  was  remorse  if  not  actual 
guilt  in  that  cry  to  her  aunt:  'If  I'd  only  known!'  Find 
her,  and  you'll  get  your  first  real  line  on  who  killed  Mrs. 
Hartshorne?" 


Chapter  XII. 
AN  UNSEEN  WITNESS. 

PAUL  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  routine  work; 
"laying  wires"  as  he  would  have  expressed  it.  He 
arranged  for  a  dragnet  to  be  thrown  out  for  the  run- 
away kitchenmaid,  but  stipulated  that  if  found  she  was  not 
to  be  apprehended  until  he  had  been  notified.  The  after- 
noon was  occupied  by  a  further  and  more  exhaustive  search 
of  the  Farragut  Street  house,  and  early  evening  found  him 
again  in  his  own  rooms,  going  over  for  the  hundredth  time 
the  tangled  threads  of  the  problem  which  he  held  in  his 
hands. 

As  in  the  early  morning  the  telephone  bell  summoned 
him  once  more,  but  this  time  a  clear,  girlish  voice,  vibrant 
with  scarcely  controlled  excitement,  came  to  him  over  the 
wire. 

"Is  that  you,  Mr.  Harvey?  This  is  Rose  Adare.  I  think 
I've  found  what  you  are  looking  for;  someone  who  saw 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  enter  her  house  that  night!  It's  a  young 
woman  and  she's  here  in  my  home,  willing  and  glad  to  talk 
to  you  if  you  can  come  right  away."  She  added  in  a  lower, 
hurried  tone :  "Be  quick,  Mr.  Harvey !  I've  had  an  awful 
time  with  her  and  she  may  change  her  mind." 

"What  is  your  address?"  he  asked,  hastily.  "I'll  be  there 
as  soon  as  a  taxi  can  bring  me." 

"Fifty-six  Maple  Terrace,"  she  responded.  "The  subway 
will  get  you  here  quickest." 

135 


136  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

He  adopted  her  suggestion  and  twenty  minutes  later 
stood  in  the  vestibule  of  number  fifty-six,  one  of  the  long 
row  of  attractive  brick  and  stone  apartment  houses  which 
composed  the  Terrace.  When  his  name  was  announced  at 
the  switchboard  he  was  requested  to  come  up  immediately, 
and  Rose  Adare  herself  awaited  him  at  the  door  of  her 
apartment. 

"Please  go  right  into  the  drawing-room,  Mr.  Harvey.  I 
live  here  with  an  old  friend  of  my  mother,  but  she  is  out 
now  and  we  can  have  a  private  interview." 

She  ushered  him  into  a  dainty  front-room,  draped  in 
subdued  colors  and  furnished  with  a  few  pieces  of  good  old 
mahogany.  A  figure  in  a  showy  gown  and  wide  sweeping 
hat  rose  from  an  armchair  as  he  entered  and  Paul  found 
himself  confronting  a  handsome,  sullen-eyed  girl,  with  a 
rebellious  twist  to  her  full,  red  lips  and  an  air  half  of  de- 
preciation, half  defiance. 

"Let  me  present  my  friend  Mr.  Harvey,"  began  Rose. 
"This  is  Miss  Daisy  Bayne." 

"How  do  you  do?"  the  girl  said  stiffly.  "I  suppose  this 
is  a  game  that  you  two  have  put  up  on  me,  but  I  don't  care ; 
I'm  glad  enough  to  tell  you  what  I  saw  if  you  won't  let  it 
go  any  farther  and  hurt  me  in  my  work.  I'd  never  get 
another  case  if  the  doctors  found  out  I'd  been  negligent  in 
the  last  one,  with  the  Fraser  boy." 

"  The  Fraser  boy'  ?"  Paul  repeated  eagerly. 

She  nodded. 

"I'm  a  trained  nurse.  I  was  on  night  duty  at  the  Frasers, 
number  one-thirty-eight  Farragut  Street,  on  Thursday  eve- 
ning." 

Paul  motioned  toward  her  chair  and  drew  up  another  for 
himself.  His  brown  eyes  shone,  but  his  voice  was  perfunc- 
torily cool. 


AN  UNSEEN  WITNESS  137 

"Yes  ?  How  long  had  you  been  on  the  case,  Miss  Bayne  ?" 

"Since  Tuesday  night,  alternating  with  the  day  nurse. 
The  little  boy — he's  six  years  old — has  a  touch  of  diphtheria. 
I  went  on  at  seven  o'clock  Thursday,  relieving  Miss  Wray. 
Donald,  my  patient,  was  restless  and  feverish  the  first  part 
of  the  evening  but  by  midnight  his  temperature  fell  and  he 
went  off  into  such  a  deep,  natural  sleep  that  I  was  sure  the 
turning  point  had  been  reached.  The  family  had  given  up 
the  whole  second  floor  to  us  and  the  sick-room  was  at  the 
back ;  the  front-room  looking  out  on  Farragut  Street  was  a 
sort  of  library  and  Miss  Wray  and  I  took  turns  sleeping 
there  on  a  couch. 

"I  stayed  right  beside  Donald  and  never  took  my  eyes 
off  him  for  an  hour  or  more,  but  he  didn't  stir.  His  fore- 
head was  damp  and  he  was  breathing  easily  and  the  relief 
from  the  strain  was  beginning  to  make  me  drowsy.  I 
thought  that  a  breath  of  the  cool  night  air  and  a  sight  of 
the  street  would  wake  me  up  and  it  didn't  seem  any  harm 
to  leave  him  for  just  a  minute,  though  of  course  it  was 
against  my  orders. 

"I  stole  into  the  library  where  Miss  Wray  was  snoring 
on  the  couch  and  tiptoed  over  to  the  open  window.  The 
lights  were  all  out  in  the  houses  across  the  street  and  only 
the  street  lamps  were  burning,  but  there  was  one  directly 
opposite,  between  a  hundred-and-thirty-seven,  and  nine.  I 
only  meant  to  stay  for  a  minute,  but  the  air  was  so  clean 
and  refreshing  that  I  dropped  on  my  knees  by  the  window- 
sill  and  I  guess — I  am  afraid — that  I  fell  asleep." 

She  faltered  over  the  admission  and  paused,  but  Paul 
urged  her  on. 

"What  awakened  you,  Miss  Bayne?" 

"The  sound  of  a  motorcar  in  the  street.  It  was  a  big 
limousine  and  it  drew  up  before  number  one-thirty-nine, 


138  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

Mrs.  Hartshorne's  house.  I  watched  because  I  had  read  a 
lot  about  her  in  the  society  columns  of  the  newspapers  and 
I  wanted  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her. 

"The  chauffeur  shut  off  his  engine  and  switched  out  his 
lights.  That  was  the  first  thing  that  struck  me  as  being 
funny,  but  the  light  from  the  street  lamp  was  almost  bright 
enough  to  read  by.  The  chauffeur  climbed  down  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  shadow  on  the  other  side  of  the  door  and 
I  thought  he  was  lame — "  she  caught  herself  up,  flushing 
with  momentary  embarrassment  as  she  remembered  the 
slight  limp  with  which  Paul  had  entered,  but  he  smiled 
pleasantly. 

"Go  on,  please,  Miss  Bayne.    It  wasn't  I,  I  assure  you." 

"Oh,  I  know  that  1"  She  bit  her  lip.  "It  seemed  to  me 
that  whoever  was  in  that  car,  took  a  long  time  to  get  out 
of  it.  But  when  they  moved  beyond  the  shadow  and  up 
the  steps  of  the  house  in  the  circle  of  light  I  could  under- 
stand why.  There  were  three  of  them,  a  man  and  two 
women ;  one  woman  was  in  the  middle  and  they  were  hold- 
ing her  up,  almost  carrying  her  to  the  door.  I  thought  she 
must  be  sick  or — or  intoxicated,  for  her  body  sagged  drunk- 
enly  and  the  other  woman  and  the  man  had  all  they  could 
do  to  get  her  into  the  vestibule.  They  didn't  ring  and  must 
have  let  themselves  in  with  a  key,  though  not  a  light  sprang 
up  in  the  house  except  just  a  tiny  spark,  like  a  match  flame, 
before  the  front  door  closed  behind  them." 

"Was  it  the  chauffeur  who  helped  to  carry  the  woman 
in?"  asked  Paul. 

"No.  The  man  was  tall  and  straight  and  wore  a  long 
ulster  and  a  soft  felt  hat  pulled  low.  The  women  were  bare- 
headed and  in  opera  coats ;  I  couldn't  tell  the  color,  but  the 
one  the  sick  woman  wore  was  trimmed  with  white  fur- 
ermine,  I  think — and  the  other's  was  all  dark. 


AN  UNSEEN  WITNESS  139 

"The  chauffeur  started  his  engine  and  the  car  moved  off, 
without  lights,  to  a  spot  three  or  four  doors  down  the  street. 
Then  he  shut  off  the  engine  again  and  waited,  and  I  waited, 
too.  I  know  it  was  inexcusable  but  I  forgot  all  about  my 
patient  and  where  I  was  in  my  interest  in  what  was  happen- 
ing over  the  way.  It  seemed  like  half  an  hour,  though  I 
suppose  it  couldn't  have  been  more  than  a  few  minutes, 
before  the  door  opened  again  and  the  man  came  out  with 
the  woman  in  the  dark  cloak.  This  time  I  made  sure  that 
they  must  all  have  been  drinking  too  much,  for  this  woman 
began  to  stagger  now  as  she  came  down  the  steps.  I've 
had  more  than  one  alcoholic  case  among  society  women, 
and  I  wasn't  surprised.  She  reeled  and  caught  at  the  balus- 
trade to  save  herself  from  collapse,  but  the  man  was  right 
at  her  side  and  the  chauffeur  ran  forward,  too,  to  help;  I 
saw  then  that  he  was  very  lame." 

"In  which  leg?" 

"The  left,  I  think.  They  wanted  to  assist  the  woman, 
but  she  pulled  herself  together  and  walked  to  the  car  steadily 
enough.  Then  they  all  got  in  and  drove  off.  I  thought  it 
was  awfully  queer,  leaving  the  other  woman  like  that  with- 
out a  light  showing  to  prove  that  a  servant  or  someone  had 
been  awakened  to  take  care  of  her.  I  would  have  aroused 
Miss  Wray  and  told  her  about  it,  but  she  is  a  regular  mar- 
tinet for  discipline  and  I  was  afraid  she  would  scold  be- 
cause I  had  left  my  patient,  perhaps  even  report  me  to  the 
doctor.  I  had  to  wake  her  up  anyway,  as  it  happened,  and 
you  can  believe  I  didn't  say  anything  about  what  I'd  seen, 
because  when  I  went  back  to  the  sick-room  I  found  Donald 
black  in  the  face  and  almost  strangling!  We  had  a  hard 
time  with  him  and  although  she  didn't  know  I  had  left  him, 
Miss  Wray  chose  to  put  all  the  blame  on  me.  When  the 
danger  point  was  past  we  had  an  argument  about  it  and  I 


140  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

told  the  doctor  he  would  have  to  put  someone  else  on  the 
case  with  Miss  Wray ;  I'd  had  enough  of  her  tyranny !" 

"You  gave  up  the  case?"  Paul  asked.  "When  did  you 
leave  the  Fraser  house?" 

"About  noon  on  Friday.  I  was  so  angry  that  I  had  almost 
forgotten  what  I  had  seen  in  the  night.  But  just  as  I  let 
myself  out  of  the  house  a  young  woman  and  a  policeman 
rushed  up  the  steps  of  number  one-thirty-nine  across  the 
way  and  disappeared  inside.  I  remembered  then  what  I'd 
seen  and  I  knew  something  horrible  must  have  happened, 
but  I  didn't  dare  linger  about  for  fear  I  would  be  ques- 
tioned. I  hurried  back  to  the  boarding  house  where  I  live 
between  cases,  and  waited  for  the  evening  papers,  but  be- 
fore they  came  out  there  was  an  'Extra'  and  I  was  shocked ! 
I  hadn't  dreamed,  even  when  I  saw  the  policeman,  that  it 
could  have  been  murder! 

"I  didn't  know  what  to  do  then ;  I  felt  as  if  I  ought  to 
come  forward  and  tell  what  I  had  seen  but  I  was  afraid  I 
would  get  in  the  papers  and  then  the  doctor  would  know 
I  had  been  to  blame  for  Donald's  relapse — well,  not  really 
to  blame,"  she  corrected  herself  hastily,  "but  that  I  had 
been  careless  with  him  and  disobeyed  orders.  I  wouldn't 
be  trusted  on  another  case  if  he  knew,  and  I  have  my 
mother  to  support  in  the  country,  so  you  can  see  what  a 
position  I  was  in! 

"The  murder  puzzled  me,  too,  for  none  of  the  papers 
mentioned  the  possibility  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne  having  come 
home  ill  or  under  the  influence  of  alcohol  and  I  was  posi- 
tive there  had  been  no  pistol  shot  while  those  other  people 
were  in  the  house  or  even  after  they  had  driven  away.  I 
thought  of  nothing  else  for  hours  until  the  truth  finally  came 
to  me." 

She  stopped  with  a  shudder  and  Paul  leaned  toward  her. 


AN  UNSEEN  WITNESS 


"You  mean- 


"That  it  must  have  been  her  dead  body  which  they  carried 
into  the  house  between  them!" 

Rose  Adare,  who  was  seated  a  little  apart,  uttered  a  low 
exclamation;  but  Paul  merely  nodded. 

"And  when  you  came  to  that  conclusion,  did  you  still 
hesitate  to  tell  what  you  knew  ?" 

"Yes."  Miss  Bayne  hung  her  head  for  a  moment  and 
then  looked  up  defiantly.  "It  wouldn't  have  done  any  good 
to  Mrs.  Hartshorne  for  me  to  have  come  forward,  and  I 
had  to  think  of  myself!  It  worried  me,  though,  so  that  I 
wasn't  fit  for  anything;  another  doctor  wanted  me  on  a 
case  yesterday,  but  I  was  so  nervous  and  upset  that  I 
couldn't  take  it.  Then  this  morning  Miss  Adare,  here, 
came  to  see  me  on  a  business  proposition  and  said  Dr. 
Davis  had  spoken  of  me  to  her  in  connection  with  it.  I 
didn't  recognize  her  as  the  young  woman  who  had  rushed 
with  the  policeman  into  the  Hartshorne  house  and  I  be- 
lieved her." 

She  spoke  in  an  injured  tone  and  Paul  glanced  at  Rose, 
but  the  latter  was  gazing  demurely  down  at  her  folded 
hands. 

"Dr.  Davis  was  the  physician  in  charge  of  the  Fraser 
case  and  I  was  glad  he  had  recommended  me  because  that 
showed  he  didn't  hold  me  responsible  for  little  Donald's 
relapse,  and  the  business  proposition  sounded  feasible 
enough,"  Miss  Bayne  continued.  "We  talked  it  over  and 
Miss  Adare  invited  me  to  lunch  and  then  we  took  a  long 
walk  and  decided  to  have  dinner  together.  Nothing  was 
said  about  the  murder  at  first,  but  speaking  of  Dr.  Davis 
I  mentioned  the  Fraser  case  and  Miss  Adare  asked  where 
they  lived.  When  I  told  her  'on  Farragut  Street'  it  seemed 
to  bring  up  the  Hartshorne  affair  quite  naturally  and  before 


142  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

I  knew  it  I  was  telling  her  everything.  She  brought  me 
here  and  persuaded  me  that  I  ought  to  tell  you,  too,  promis- 
ing me  faithfully  that  you  wouldn't  get  me  into  any  trouble 
over  it.  You  won't,  will  you  Mr.  Harvey?  I'll  never  be 
careless  on  another  case,  and  I've  told  you  this  of  my  own 
free  will." 

"You  won't  get  in  any  trouble,  I  promise  you,  Miss 
Bayne,"  Paul  reassured  her.  "Now,  to  go  back  to  that 
night.  You  say  that  your  patient  fell  asleep  about  mid- 
night and  that  you  watched  over  him  for  an  hour  or  more 
before  going  to  the  library.  Can  you  fix  the  time  more 
definitely  than  that?" 

"It  was  after  half -past  one,  because  I  looked  at  him  then 
and  he  was  still  fast  asleep.  It  was  the  time  for  his  medi- 
cine but  Dr.  Davis  had  instructed  me  not  to  disturb  Donald 
unless  he  were  awake  and  restless."  She  paused.  "I  went 
into  the  library  a  few  minutes  later,  and  I  couldn't  have 
slept  very  long  there  at  the  window  before  the  sound  of  the 
motor  car  aroused  me,  because  when  it  had  driven  away 
again,  I  went  back  to  the  sick-room  to  find  Donald  chok- 
ing and  called  Miss  Wray.  It  was  only  a  quarter  of  three ; 
she  put  it  down  on  the  chart.  I  should  say  that  car  drove 
up  to  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  door  between  twenty  minutes  after 
and  half-past  two." 

"Could  you  tell  the  color  of  the  car  body?" 

"No,  only  that  it  was  very  dark.  It  must  have  been  a 
high-powered,  expensive  car,  though,  for  the  hood  was 
extra  long  and  it  looked  massive,  looming  up  there  under 
the  light  from  the  street  lamp." 

"You  said  that  the  woman  who  rode  away  in  it  was 
bareheaded  and  had  on  a  long,  dark  cloak.  Did  you  catch 
a  glimpse  of  her  face  under  the  lamp?  Do  you  think  you 
would  know  her  again  ?" 


AN  UNSEEN  WITNESS  143 

Miss  Bayne  recoiled. 

"Mercy,  no!"  she  gasped.  "She  was  tall  and  graceful, 
but  you  couldn't  tell  whether  she  was  stout  or  thin  muffled 
up  in  that  loose  cloak.  And  I  never  once  saw  her  face,  it 
was  always  in  shadow.  Her  hair  seemed  dark  under  the 
lamp,  but  I  couldn't  be  sure.  I've  told  you  everything  about 
it  that  I  remember  and  could  swear  to,  Mr.  Harvey !  May 
I  go  now?  It's  late  and  I — I'm  too  nervous  to  talk  about 
it  any  more." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have  enough  information  now  to  work 
on."  Paul  rose  and  held  out  his  hand.  "This  would  have 
•been  of  inestimable  benefit  to  me  had  you  come  forward 
sooner,  but  thank  you  for  telling  me  now,  at  any  rate ;  you 
have  cleared  up  one  or  two  obscure  points  very  nicely  for 
me,  Miss  Bayne." 

The  young  woman  shook  his  hand,  bowed  coldly  to  Rose 
Adare  and  departed.  When  the  emphatic  thud  of  the 
street  door  reached  their  ears,  Paul  turned  with  a  smile  of 
warm  congratulation  to  his  hostess. 

"May  I  ask  what  business  proposition  you  suggested  to 
that  young  person,  and  what  stroke  of  positive  genius  put 
you  on  her  trail  ?" 

Rose  laughed  heartily. 

"I  wanted  her  to  start  a  rest  cure  with  me;  a  sort  of 
private  sanitarium.  She  to  treat  the  sick — Heaven  help 
them ! — and  I  to  manage  the  finances."  Then  her  face  grew 
grave.  "I  began  thinking  after  I  left  you  yesterday  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Harvey.  I  was  wondering  who  on  that  street 
would  be  likely  to  have  been  up  during  the  night  and  all  of 
<a  sudden  I  remembered  that  when  I  first  saw  Mrs.  Hart- 
chorne's  body  and  ran  out  in  the  street  to  find  a  policeman, 
there  was  a  doctor's  landaulet  in  front  of  the  house  op- 
posite. It  was  still  there  when  I  looked  out  of  the  drawing 


144  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

room  window  while  I  waited  for  you  and  Chief  Burke  to 
send  for  me  nearly  two  hours  later.  I  thought  somebody 
must  have  been  very  ill  over  there  to  keep  a  doctor  that 
long,  and  it  struck  me  that  if  anyone  in  all  that  street  had 
been  awake  and  stirring  when  Mrs.  Hartshorne  came  home, 
it  would  be  someone  in  that  house. 

"After  I  left  Mrs.  Cowles  yesterday  I  walked  through 
Farragut  Street.  The  landaulet  was  there  again  and  I — I 
got  into  conversation  with  the  chauffeur."  Miss  Adare  had 
the  grace  to  blush  most  becomingly.  "I  found  out  the 
doctor's  name  and  office  hours  and  late  yesterday  afternoon 
I  went  to  pay  a  professional  call  on  him.  I — I  had  a  queer 
kind  of  a  pain  which  he  couldn't  diagnose ;  but  he  was  most 
helpful  in  other  ways.  I  asked  how  the  little  Fraser  boy 
was,  saying  I  knew  the  family,  and  he  spoke  of  the  relapse 
and  the  night  nurse  leaving.  He  mentioned  her  name  and 
just  on  an  off  chance  I  looked  her  up  in  the  nurses'  direc- 
tory and  went  to  see  her  this  morning.  The  minute  I  began 
talking  to  her  and  saw  how  she  shied  away  from  any  men- 
tion of  Farragut  Street  I  realized  that  I  was  on  the  right 
track,  and  I  stuck  to  her  until  she  broke  down  and  told  me 
her  story." 

"Miss  Adare,"  Paul  shook  her  hand  solemnly,  "I  can't 
express  my  personal  gratitude  to  you,  but  I  can  tell  you  how 
much  I  admire  what  you  have  done!  It  was  masterly! 
Chief  Burke  has  no  one  on  his  staff  who  could  have  equalled 
it !  You  have  beaten  me  at  my  own  game." 

"Nonsense!"  She  flushed  again,  rosily.  "I  had  a — a 
hunch,  that's  all ;  it  probably  wouldn't  happen  again  in  a 
thousand  years.  But  I  don't  believe  that  girl's  story  is 
going  to  be  such  a  lot  of  help  to  you  as  I  thought  it  would, 
Mr.  Harvey.  You  knew  some  of  it  before,  didn't  you? 
You  weren't  surprised  a  bit  when  she  said  it  was  poor  Mrs. 


AN  UNSEEN  WITNESS  145 

Hartshorne's  dead  body  that  had  been  brought  to  the  house !" 

"No,"  Paul  responded  gravely.  "I  knew  from  my  first 
examination  of  the  body  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  not 
been  killed  in  her  own  home.  But  Miss  Bayne's  testimony 
as  to  the  hour  and  method  of  returning  the  body  and  the 
description  of  those  who  accomplished  it  is  of  the  utmost 
importance." 

"Still,"  Rose  mused,  "two  men  and  a  woman  and  a 
limousine ;  there's  nothing  very  definite  about  that,  is  there  ? 
I  wish  to  goodness  I'd  been  in  that  window  instead  of  Miss 
Bayne !  Where  do  you  suppose  they  killed  poor  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne? Where  could  she  have  been  those  three  hours 
after  she  left  the  Ledyard  dance,  and  what  possessed  her  to 
slip  away  like  that?" 

"I'm  afraid  we're  not  going  to  like  the  answers  to  that 
riddle  when  we  learn  them,  Miss  Adare."  Then  Paul's  tone 
lightened.  "You  will  be  adding  another  to  your  list  of  pro- 
fessional accomplishments,  now;  that  of  detective.  My 
plain-clothes  brethren  will  have  to  look  to  their  laurels." 

"I  wish  I  could !  I  mean,"  she  amended,  "I  wish  I  could 
do  something  more  in  this  case.  If  any  little  point  comes 
up  that  you  think  I  could  verify  for  you,  or  if  there's  any 
snooping  to  be  done  where  I'd  stand  a  better  show  than  a 
man,  will  you  let  me  know  ?" 

"I  will,  indeed!"  Paul  assented  heartily.  "By  the  way, 
you  don't  happen  to  be  going  to  the  funeral  to-morrow  af- 
ternoon, do  you?" 

"I  don't  happen  to  be  staying  away,  if  there's  breath  in 
my  body !"  retorted  Rose,  promptly.  "There's  little  enough 
I  can  do  to  show  respect  to  the  woman  who's  been  kind 
to  me!  I  suppose  the  crowd  that  made  so  much  of  her 
so  short  a  time  since  will  avoid  it  like  the  plague.  I'm 
curious  to  see  if  she  had  even  one  real  friend  among  them." 


146  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I  wish  you'd  be  more  curious  still,"  Paul  suggested. 
"Go  early,  get  a  seat  about  the  center  of  the  church  on  the 
main  aisle,  if  you  can,  and  watch  the  people;  leave  before 
the  end  of  the  service  and  wait  in  the  vestibule  to  see  them 
come  out.  Not  only  those  you  recognize,  but  the  strangers. 
Don't  let  anything  escape  you.  You  can  report  to  me  later, 
if  you  will.  Will  you  do  this  ?" 

"Surely!"  Her  eyes  glowed.  "Leave  it  to  me,  Mr. 
Harvey!  If  there's  a  guilty  conscience  in  the  crowd  and  I 
don't  spot  it  I'll  stick  to  being  a  secretary  for  the  rest  of 
my  days.  But  you  don't  think  those  people  who  brought 
the  body  home  would  venture  there,  do  you  ?" 

"No,"  responded  Paul  as  he  shook  hands  once  more.  "I 
think  they  will  find  themselves  otherwise  engaged  to- 
morrow." 


Chapter  XIII. 
WHERE  DEATH  LURKED. 

THE  inquest  on  Monday  morning  was  not  a  pro- 
tracted one  and  resulted  in  the  familiar  non-com- 
mital  verdict  of  murder  by  a  person  or  persons  un- 
known. Paul  did  not  produce  the  later  evidence  which  he 
had  obtained  from  the  reluctant  Miss  Bayne,  nor  had  he 
as  yet  taken  Chief  Burke  into  his  confidence.  As  he  sat 
in  the  latter's  office  in  the  early  afternoon  the  vials  of  official 
discontent  and  chagrin  were  poured  out  before  him. 

"It's  not  that  I  blame  you,  Paul,"  the  Chief  assured  him 
gloomily.  "But  that  inquest  was  the  biggest  fizzle  in  the 
history  of  the  Department!  Three  days  since  the  body 
was  discovered  and  we  have  done  no  more  than  when  we 
first  stood  looking  down  on  it!  Wait  till  you  hear  the 
holler  the  evening  papers  make  about  it!  I  tell  you  we've 
got  to  do  something,  and  do  it  quick." 

Paul  nodded. 

"I  know,"  he  assented  patiently.  "Has  any  report  come 
in  yet  on  that  missing  girl,  Sadie  Mullen  ?" 

"None  whatever,"  the  Chief  responded  with  emphasis. 
"You're  on  the  wrong  track  about  her,  my  boy.  She's  the 
only  one  who  holds  the  key  to  the  situation — and  we've  let 
her  slip  through  our  fingers!  We  don't  care  how  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  left  the  Ledyard  house  or  when ;  what  we  want 
to  know  is  who  got  into  her  own  house  and  killed  her.  And 
you  won't  find  that  out  with  the  line  of  investigation  you've 
been  following." 


148  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Maybe  not,"  Paul  admitted,  with  his  eyes  on  the  clock. 
"I'm  expecting  a  young  lady  to  call,  Chief.  I  took  the 
liberty  of  telephoning  to  her  in  your  name  and  I'd  like  to 
have  you  hear  what  she  has  to  say.  After  that,  if  you  like, 
I'll  drop  the  method  I've  been  working  on  and  take  my 
orders  from  you,  sir.  She  is  late — no,  she's  coming  now. 
Don't  expect  too  much,  it  is  only  one  of  the  society  crowd 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  traveled  with,  but  I  think  she  can  corrobo- 
rate a  certain  theory  of  mine." 

As  he  spoke  the  door  opened  and  a  slender  figure  stood 
haughtily  on  the  threshold.  Clad  in  purple  velvet  with  a 
glowing  cluster  of  violets  against  her  sables,  and  a  toque 
of  the  same  rich  hue  upon  her  auburn  hair,  she  looked  almost 
regal  as  she  stood  silently  regarding  them  with  a  calm,  dis- 
dainful gaze. 

"Good  afternoon,  Miss  Ledyard,"  said  Paul  suavely. 
"Allow  me  to  present  Chief  Burke.  The  Chief  is  anxious 
to  learn  what  you  know  of  last  Thursday  night's  event." 

Ignoring  him,  she  bowed  coldly  to  the  stout  figure  which 
had  arisen  affably  from  behind  the  desk. 

"I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  your  message,  Mr.  Burke." 
Her  tones  were  even  and  metallic.  "We — my  father  and  all 
of  us — have  done  all  in  our  power  to  convince  your  special 
investigator  that  we  know  absolutely  nothing  of  the  tragedy, 
but  he  has  persisted  in  annoying  us.  I  have  come  as  you 
requested,  but  I  must  beg  you  to  be  brief ;  I  have  an  engage- 
ment." 

"Sit  here,  please,  Miss  Ledyard."  The  Chief  gallantly 
rolled  forward  a  huge  leather  armchair. 

With  an  expression  of  the  uttermost  boredom  she  seated 
herself  and  loosened  the  furs  about  her  throat. 

"I  have  already  told  Mr.  Harvey — "  she  began,  but  the 
younger  man  interrupted  her. 


WHERE  DEATH  LURKED  149 

"It  is  what  you  have  not  told  me  that  we  wish  to  hear 
now,"  he  said  with  quiet  firmness.  "Your  own  move- 
ments during  the  evening,  for  instance." 

Miss  Ledyard  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"I  assisted  my  mother  to  make  the  affair  a  success.  I 
helped  her  receive  and  then  danced,  like  the  rest.  Really, 
Mr.  Harvey " 

"You  danced  until  the  supper  hour  ?" 

"Certainly;  and  afterward,  until  the  affair  broke  up  at 
two  o'clock." 

"Miss  Ledyard,  did  you  enter  the  conservatory  before 
supper?"  He  eyed  her  steadily. 

"I  don't  know."  The  supercilious  look  was  gone  now, 
but  a  mask  had  dropped  over  her  stiffened  features.  "I 
don't  remember." 

"Please  try  to  think,  Miss  Ledyard.  I  am  sure  you  have 
not  quite  forgotten."  His  tone  was  fraught  with  deep 
significance,  but  she  returned  his  gaze  in  bland  impassivity. 

"Mr.  Harvey,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  recall  such  a  de- 
tail. I  do  not  know  that  I  entered  the  conservatory  at  all 
that  night " 

She  paused,  but  not  with  any  conscious  effort;  it  was 
rather  that  her  voice  died  away  in  her  closing  throat  as  if 
an  iron  hand  had  clutched  her.  The  Chief  bent  forward 
so  suddenly  that  his  swivel  chair  squeaked  a  protest.  Paul 
had  taken  from  his  coat  pocket  a  paper  packet.  Unfolding 
it,  he  disclosed  a  fragment  of  a  woman's  scarf.  It  was  a 
delicate,  opalescent,  silky  thing  of  palest  sea-green  with  a 
silvery  tinge  like  foam.  Its  shimmering  length  was  stained 
with  great  blotches  of  rusty  brown  where  the  fabric  had 
dulled  and  stiffened. 

An  odd,  tremulous  sigh  floated  out  upon  the  tense  air, 
but  there  was  silence  until  Paul  asked: 


ISO  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Do  you  recognize  this,  Miss  Ledyard?" 

"No."  Her  tone  was  still  even,  but  hushed  as  though  she 
were  waiting. 

"Is  this  not  a  portion  of  a  scarf  which  belonged  to  you?" 

"No.    I  have  never " 

"Miss  Ledyard,  some  of  your  servants  are  faithful  to 
you,  loyal  even  to  the  extent  of  abetting  a  felony,  but  you 
made  a  mistake  on  Saturday  night  when  you  dismissed 
Louise,  your  maid,  for  her  disobedience  in  leaving  the  cloak- 
room where  she  was  stationed  during  the  dance,  and  per- 
mitted her  to  remove  this  damaging  bit  of  evidence.  She 
positively  identifies  this  scarf  as  yours  and  even  told  me 
the  name  of  the  shop  where  it  was  purchased." 

"You  have  just  supplied  the  motive,  yourself,  for  such 
a  statement  from  her.  The  word  of  a  discharged  ser- 
vant—  ?"  she  shrugged.  "I  was  about  to  add,  when  you 
interrupted  me,  that  I  had  never  seen  the  scarf — if  that  is 
what  it  is — before,  in  my  life." 

"Nevertheless  it  was  found  stuffed  behind  the  radiator 
in  your  boudoir.  An  effort  had  been  made  to  burn  it,  pre- 
sumably in  your  bathtub,  for  the  odor  and  smoke  were  re- 
marked upon  by  your  mother  when  she  entered  your  apart- 
ment later.  You  can  see  where  the  end  has  been  partially 
consumed."  Paul's  voice  was  stern.  "There  can  be  no 
question  as  to  these  stains,  Miss  Ledyard.  Would  you  care 
to  examine  it?"  He  held  it  out  to  her,  but  she  recoiled. 

"Certainly  not!  What  has  it  to  do  with  me?  If  you 
believe  a  servant's  lies " 

"I  have  another  witness.  When  you  go  upon  such  a 
grim,  nocturnal  errand,  Miss  Ledyard,  you  should  not  choose 
a  chauffeur  who  is  unfortunate  enough — like  myself — as  to 
possess  an  infirmity  which  renders  him  distinctive,  even 
under  the  rays  of  a  street  lamp. 


WHERE  DEATH  LURKED  151 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Her  voice  was  hoarse  and  shaken  now,  but  her  small 
head  was  proudly  erect. 

"I  mean  that  you,  your  butler  Hickson  and  his  son 
William,  your  chauffeur,  conveyed  the  body  of  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne  for  myour  home  to  hers,  and  placed  it  where  it  was 
later  discovered!"  Paul  advanced  slowly,  step  by  step,  as 
he  hurled  his  indictment  at  her.  His  slender  figure  seemed 
to  tower  over  her.  "I  mean  that  from  before  midnight  until 
after  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  while  the  jazz  band  brayed 
and  you  supped  and  danced,  the  body  of  the  murdered  wo- 
man lay  where  it  had  fallen,  among  the  orchids  in  the  con- 
servatory which  had  been  locked  by  your  orders!  I  mean 
that  you,  Beatrice  Ledyard,  killed  the  woman  who  had 
supplanted  you " 

"A-ah!"  The  snarling  scream  which  tore  its  way  from 
her  distorted  lips  was  more  like  that  of  some  wild  beast 
than  human,  and  like  a  tigress  she  crouched,  her  tawny  eyes 
blazing.  "Stop !  I  can't  bear  it !  I  shall  go  mad,  mad !" 

Then  all  at  once  her  tense  form  relaxed  and  she  crumpled 
in  her  chair  with  a  high,  thin,  wailing  cry  which  broke  into 
tearing  sobs. 

The  Chief,  with  lax  jaw  and  protruding  eyes,  was  staring 
at  her  like  one  in  a  trance.  Paul  waited  until  the  storm 
had  spent  itself  before  he  spoke  again. 

"I  can  go  into  details,  if  you  like ;  trace  step  by  step  and 
hour  by  hour  all  that  you  did " 

"For  God's  sake,  no !"  She  threw  up  her  slender  hands 
as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow.  "I'll  tell  you  myself!  It's  all 
true,  except  the  charge  that  I  killed  her!  I  did  not;  she 
must  have  killed  herself !  How  you  discovered  the  rest  I  do 
not  know,  for  Hickson  would  never  have  betrayed  me.  We 
thought  we  had  arranged  it  all  so  carefully,  safeguarded  it 


152  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

from  any  possible  discovery.  I  had  no  animosity  toward 
Mrs.  Hartshorne ;  I  had  given  her  no  thought  save  to  doubt 
the  wisdom  of  our  sanction  of  her  with  no  knowledge  of 
her  antecedents. 

"I  saw  her  enter  with  the  Gaylors  on  Thursday  night,  and 
go  upstairs  to  leave  her  cloak.  When  she  came  down  I 
nodded  to  her  as  I  told  you,  and  went  on  dancing.  I  didn't 
even  think  of  her  again,  I  swear  it!  More  than  an  hour 
later — it  must  have  been  about  a  quarter  to  twelve — I 
slipped  into  the  conservatory  alone.  I  was  warm  and  fati- 
gued and  the  lights  and  noise  of  that  jazz  band  had  made 
me  dizzy;  I  wanted  a  moment's  respite  in  the  cool,  com- 
paratively fresher  air.  I  started  toward  a  bench — when  all 
at  once  I  saw  her  lying  there  among  the  orchids,  her  pistol 
clutched  in  her  hand  and  a  hideous  stain  spreading  on  her 
breast ! 

"I  screamed,  I  think,  but  the  blare  of  the  orchestra 
drowned  my  voice.  I  could  feel  myself  sway  and  every- 
thing began  to  whirl  before  me,  when  with  a  final  blast  the 
music  ceased.  I  pulled  myself  together,  somehow,  and  turn- 
ing ran  to  the  door  leading  to  the  ball-room  with  only  one 
thought  in  my  mind ;  to  keep  anyone  from  entering  until  I 
had  decided  what  to  do." 

"If  you  are  telling  the  truth,  Miss  Ledyard,"  Paul  inter- 
posed swiftly,  "why  should  you  have  hesitated?  Why  did 
you  not  give  the  alarm  at  once  and  summon  aid?" 

"And  have  all  the  world  know  that  this  woman  who  had 
come  from  nowhere  and  foisted  herself  upon  us  had 
committed  suicide  in  our  home?  Oh,  can't  you  under- 
stand?" The  girl  wrung  her  hands.  "The  notoriety,  the 
disgrace  of  it!  To  have  us  all  dragged  through  the  mire 
of  a  police  investigation,  our  names  blazoned  on  the  front 
page  of  every  scandal-mongering  journal,  our  private  af- 


WHERE  DEATH  LURKED  153 

fairs  discussed  on  every  street  corner !  It  would  have  ruined 
my  father,  killed  my  mother!  People  in  our  station  of  life 
cannot  afford  a  breath  of  that  sort  of  scandal,  it  is  fatal! 
We  would  go  to  any  length  to  stamp  it  out !" 

Paul  shook  his  head  slowly  as  though  her  explanation 
failed  to  convince  him,  but  he  forbore  to  pursue  the  argu- 
ment. 

"What  did  you  do  when  you  reached  the  door?" 

"I  found  that  instead  of  coming  toward  the  conservatory 
everyone  was  trooping  out  to  the  supper-room.  Hickson 
was  hovering  about  in  the  hall  by  the  ball-room  door  and  I 
caught  his  eye  and  beckoned.  When  he  came  I  cautioned 
him  to  silence  and  showed  him  the  body.  We  decided 
quickly  what  must  be  done.  I  was  to  go  in  to  supper  and 
keep  things  going  until  the  dance  was  over,  while  Hickson 
would  lock  the  conservatory  door — the  key  was  there,  in 
the  lock — and  go  up  to  Louise  for  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  cloak, 
saying  she  had  sent  him,  if  necessary.  Then,  should  her 
absence  be  remarked  upon,  we  could  say  that  she  had  gone 
home. 

"I  don't  know  how  I  got  through  the  nightmare  of  those 
two  hours!  I  was  on  the  verge  of  collapse.  I  wanted  to 
shriek  aloud,  to  tell  everyone  of  that  terrible  thing  that 
was  lying  there  in  the  conservatory.  But  I  controlled  my- 
self and  the  night  wore  on  somehow  until  the  end.  Hickson 
had  slipped  out  right  after  supper,  told  William,  and  warned 
him  to  be  ready  with  the  car.  After  all  the  guests  had  gone 
I  said  goodnight  to  my  mother,  went  to  my  room  and,  dis- 
missing Louise  for  the  night,  put  on  a  long,  dark  cloak 
and  wrapped  that  scarf — the  first  which  came  to  my  hand — 
about  my  head.  When  the  lights  were  all  out  except  one 
tiny  glimmer  in  the  hall  I  stole  downstairs  again  and  found 
Hickson  waiting  for  me. 


154  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"He  tried  to  persuade  me  not  to  go,  saying  that  he  and 
William  could  manage  to  get  the  body  back  to  her  home 
and  leave  it  in  the  vestibule,  for  that  was  what  we  had 
planned.  I  was  determined  to  see  it  through,  however;  I 
could  not  have  endured  the  suspense  until  his  return,  and  I 
was  afraid  that  despite  his  loyalty  he  might  bungle.  He 
got  her  cloak  from  where  he  had  hidden  it  in  the  closet  be- 
neath the  stairs,  and  together  we  entered  the  conservatory." 

Her  voice  had  faltered  and  now  a  shudder  swept  her  from 
head  to  foot,  but  she  gripped  the  arms  of  her  chair  and 
forced  herself  to  go  on: 

"The — the  blood  upon  her  breast  had  congealed,  but  it 
was  not  dry;  and  when  Hickson  started  to  wrap  her  cloak 
about  her,  something  jingled  in  a  little  pocket  in  the  lining. 
It  was  her  latchkey.  When  we  realized  from  that  that  her 
household  would  all  be  asleep  a  new  idea  came  to  us ;  to 
take  her  up  to  her  bed-room  and  make  it  appear  that  she 
had  committed  suicide  there.  Then  I  remembered  the  blood ! 
If  the  slightest  trace  of  it  smirched  her  cloak  it  would  be 
discovered  that  she  had  been  brought  there  wounded,  at 
least.  I  tore  the  scarf  from  my  head  and  wadded  it  across 
her  breast. 

"We  lifted  her  sagging  body  between  us  and  got  her  out 
to  the  car,  but  it  was  ghastly!  I  shall  never  forget  that 
fearful  ride,  short  as  it  was,  with  that  limp  weight  lolling 
and  slumping  from  side  to  side!  My  brain  reels  when  I 
think  of  it — and  I  can  think  of  nothing  else !  It  will  remain 
with  me  always,  like  a  phase  of  hideous,  remembered 
delirium ! 

"Hickson  had  pocketed  her  pistol  and  he  carried,  too,  a 
tiny  electric  torch.  We  reached  the  house  at  last  and  walked 
the  body  up  the  steps  between  us.  In  the  vestibule  Hickson 
held  it  braced  against  the  wall  while  I  unlocked  the  door. 


WHERE  DEATH  LURKED  155 

It  was  dark  and  absolutely  silent.  No  one  stirred  as  we 
dragged  her  up  through  the  sleeping  house  and  laid  her 
upon  the  floor  of  her  bed-room.  Hickson  threw  her  cloak 
over  a  chair  as  if  she  herself  might  have  dropped  it  there, 
and  closed  her  fingers  about  the  pistol  while  I  placed  her 
latchkey  upon  the  dresser.  Then  I  made  the  mistake  which 
led  you  all  so  quickly  to  conclude  that  it  was  murder  and  not 
suicide;  I  arranged  her  skirts  about  her  feet,  closed  those 
terrible  eyes  that  were  staring  at  us  so  relentlessly,  and  put 
her  empty  hand  up  over  the  wound  on  her  breast.  The 
scarf  I  rolled  up  with  the  stains  inside  and  carried  it  away. 

"There  was  still  no  sound  in  the  house,  but  Hickson 
closed  the  bedroom  door  and  locked  it  so  that  if  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne's  maid  should  awaken  and  come  down  and  knock, 
she  would  think  her  mistress  was  asleep  and  the  alarm 
would  not  be  given  immediately.  The  street  was  deserted 
and  I  was  sure  no  one  had  seen  us ;  we  rushed  home  as  fast 
as  we  dared  and  Hickson  gave  me  the  key  of  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne's  door.  I  slipped  into  the  house  and  up  to  my  own 
room  at  last,  and  just  as  I  entered  the  clock  struck  three ! 
We'd  been  gone  less  than  an  hour,  but  it  seemed  ages 
and  ages  to  me ! 

"The  rest  you  seem  to  know,  Mr.  Harvey.  Only  that 
scarf  was  on  my  mind,  and  I  racked  my  brains  as  to  how 
to  dispose  of  it.  Had  it  been  winter  and  an  open  wood  fire 
blazing  on  the  hearth  my  problem  would  have  been  solved, 
but  I  decided  to  burn  it  anyway — in  the  bathtub  as  you  sur- 
mised. I  could  not  nerve  myself  to  do  it  that  night,  how- 
ever, for  I  was  almost  prostrated,  and  the  next  morning 
Mrs.  Cowles,  who  had  remained  as  a  house  guest  over  night, 
came  in  and  talked,  and  then  my  mother.  I  was  compelled 
to  drag  myself  down  to  lunch  for  fear  of  comment.  Almost 
immediately  after  there  came  the  news  of  what  was  called 


156  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

the  'murder'.  It  was  late  afternoon  before  I  dared  attempt 
to  burn  the  scarf.  I  had  to  stop  before  it  was  done,  for  the 
odor  and  smoke  sickened  me  and  I  was  afraid  it  would 
steal  out  into  the  rest  of  the  house  and  arouse  questions 
I  could  not  very  well  answer.  I  thrust  it  again  behind  the 
radiator  where  I  had  hidden  it  at  first  and  could  not  even 
bring  myself  to  look  at  it  again  until  yesterday  morning. 
Then  I  discovered  that  it  was  gone." 

"And  that  is  all,  Miss  Ledyard?"  Paul  asked  searchingly. 
"You  have  no  knowledge  of  who  killed  Mrs.  Hartshorne?" 

"She  killed  herself."  With  the  end  of  her  confession 
the  inscrutable  mask  seemed  to  have  descended  again  upon 
the  girl's  face,  blotting  out  the  emotions  which  had  con- 
torted it.  Her  eyes  dulled  like  those  of  a  basilisk.  "There 
cannot  be  any  question  about  that.  When  I  first  came  upon 
her  in  the  conservatory  the  pistol  was  clutched  in  her  hand. 
It  has  been  identified  as  hers.  One  shot  had  been  fired  from 
it  and  the  papers  have  announced  that  the  bullet  found  at 
the  autopsy  fitted  it.  If  I  had  not  in  a  moment  of  silly 
weakness  tried  to  compose  the  body  no  one  would  have 
doubted  the  truth." 

"No  one  does  doubt  it!"  The  Chief  found  his  voice. 
"The  woman  was  murdered!  No  matter  where  the  body 
might  have  been  found,  or  under  what  circumstances,  you 
couldn't  have  faked  a  suicide  bluff  that  would  get  by !  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  never  fired  that  shot  herself." 

"But  she  must  have  done  so!"  the  girl  cried  wildly. 
"There  was  no  'fake',  as  you  call  it,  Mr.  Burke !  I  tell  you 
I  saw  her  with  the  pistol  in  her  hand  and  the  wound  still 
warm  and  bleeding !" 

"You  didn't  see  any  powder  marks  on  it,  did  you?"  the 
Chief  asked. 

"Powder  marks?"  she  repeated  vaguely. 


WHERE  DEATH  LURKED  157 

"Neither  did  we,  and  if  the  pistol  had  been  held  within 
arm's  length  of  her  the  whole  front  of  her  waist  around  the 
wound  would  have  been  speckled  with  powder.  That  shot 
was  fired  from  a  distance  of  anywhere  between  ten  and 
forty  feet  away,  Miss  Ledyard.  When  you  found  her  was 
the  pistol  in  her  right  or  left  hand?" 

"Her  right."    The  reply  came  in  a  mere  toneless  whisper. 

"You  could  swear  to  that?" 

She  nodded. 

"Well,  there's  your  answer."  The  Chief  sat  back  in  his 
chair.  "That  bullet  entered  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  breast  from 
the  left  and  made  a  slanting  wound.  It  is  no  use  trying  to 
deceive  us  any  longer,  Miss  Ledyard.  We  don't  know  how 
her  pistol  came  into  your  possession  or  what  passed  be- 
tween you,  but  your  motive " 

"Stop!"  She  had  risen,  and  her  voice  rang  out  clearly. 
"I  did  not  kill  Mrs.  Hartshorne!  I  am  not  given  to  light 
oaths  but  as  God  is  above  to  judge  me,  I  am  innocent  of 
her  death !" 

"Then  who  is  guilty  ?"  The  Chief  rose  also  and  his  huge 
form  bent  toward  her  over  the  desk.  "Miss  Ledyard,  who 
fired  that  shot?" 

"I  don't  know !"  she  faltered,  and  in  her  eyes  a  look  of 
terror  was  born.  "If  she  did  not  kill  herself,  if  she  really 
was  murdered,  I  know  no  more  of  it  than  you !" 


Chapter  XIV. 
MISS  ADARE  GOSSIPS. 

«TT  TAKE  it  all  back,  Paul!"  The  Chief  held  out  his 
hand.  "I  ought  to  have  remembered  from  your 

•"•  other  cases  that  you  make  the  most  headway  when 
you  seem  to  be  lying  down  on  the  job.  That  scarf  did  the 
trick.  How  did  you  get  hold  of  it?" 

Paul  laughed. 

"The  girl,  Louise,  brought  it  to  me  herself  this  morning ; 
that  was  pure  luck,  but  it  was  superfluous  evidence  as  far 
as  I  was  concerned,  although  it  served  as  a  good  dramatic 
touch  to  force  Miss  Ledyard  to  speak.  Don't  forget  that  I 
had  a  witness  to  that  strange  homecoming." 

He  told  of  what  the  trained  nurse  had  seen  from  the 
house  across  the  street,  but  the  Chief  shook  his  head. 

"Still  I  can't  see  what  you  got  out  of  that  to  connect 
Miss  Ledyard  with  the  woman  in  the  car,"  he  commented. 
"That  was  a  pretty  nervy  accusation  of  yours,  all  right!" 

"Not  with  the  data  I  already  had,"  protested  Paul.  "In 
the  first  place,  Chief,  I  knew  from  my  examination  of  that 
room  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  not  been  killed  there.  Be- 
sides the  arrangement  of  the  body  and  the  missing  cartridge 
shell  there  was  one  small  but  conclusive  point  you  over- 
looked; a  faint,  scarcely  visible  smear  of  blood  upon  the 
lining  of  the  cloak  which  lay  across  the  chair.  If  you  had 
been  interested  in  psychology,  too,  you  would  have  seen 
the  significance  of  the  incongruity  between  the  ruthlessness 

158 


MISS  ADARE  GOSSIPS  159 

of  the  murder  itself  and  the  pity — call  it  sentimentality,  if 
you  like — displayed  in  the  arrangement  of  the  body.  I 
was  sure  that  a  woman  had  a  hand  in  that. 

"I  learned  subsequently  that  Miss  Ledyard  had  started 
the  ball  of  gossip  rolling  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  antece- 
dents, and  the  motive  for  her  spite;  she  was  in  love  with 
Cornelius  Swarthmore,  who  had  practically  jilted  her  for 
Mrs.  Hartshorne.  You  had  a  good  look  at  her  this  after- 
noon, Chief ;  you  heard  how  she  carried  out  a  scheme  that  a 
weaker,  more  gentle  character  would  have  shrunk  from. 
That  girl  is  strong,  but  her  passions  are  stronger.  She 
would  be  quite  capable  in  a  jealous  mania  of  killing  anyone 
who  stood  in  her  way." 

"Then  why  on  earth  did  you  let  her  go?"  demanded  the 
Chief.  "Why  did  you  object  to  her  immediate  arrest?" 

"Because  I  think  she  would  be  equally  capable  of  a 
supreme  sacrifice  if  her  affections  prompted  it;  not  to  the 
extent  of  relinquishing  the  man  she  loved  to  a  victorious 
rival,  but  of  protecting  that  man  at  any  risk  to  herself  from 
the  consequences  of  an  act  she  thought  was  his.  She  is 
quite  capable  of  having  killed  Mrs.  Hartshone;  but  did  she? 
It  would  hold  the  Department  up  to  more  than  ridicule  if 
we  placed  the  daughter  of  one  of  our  foremost  families 
under  arrest  on  a  false  charge.  I  admit  her  explanation 
of  why  she  concealed  and  removed  the  body  was  in- 
adequate  " 

"Inadequate?"  The  Chief  caught  him  up  on  the  word. 
"It  was  as  full  of  holes  as  a  sieve !" 

"But  the  motive  for  her  act  would  be  equally  compre- 
hensible whether  she  herself  were  guilty  or  suspected  the 
identity  of  the  murderer  and  sought  to  shield  him,"  Paul 
retorted.  "However,  I  did  not  surmise  that  the  crime  had 
been  committed  there  until  Saturday,  when  I  returned  for 


160  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

the  second  interview.  I  saw  then  that  both  Miss  Ledyard 
and  the  butler  were  keeping  something  back,  and  that  an 
understanding  of  some  sort  existed  between  them.  When  1 
mentioned  Louise's  remark  that  Mrs.  Cowles  had  com- 
plained of  the  locking  of  the  conservatory  door  from  mid- 
night on,  they  exchanged  a  most  significant,  warning  glance 
and  both  promptly  denied  the  assertion.  The  fact  that 
Mrs.  Hartshorne's  cloak  had  mysteriously  disappeared  at 
the  same  hour  but  that  her  departure  was  seen  by  no  one, 
the  crushed  orchid  bed — all  aroused  my  suspicions;  but  it 
remained  for  Hickson  to  add  the  final  link  in  the  chain. 

"When  he  assured  me,  quite  gratuitously,  of  the  patrio- 
tism of  his  family  he  said  that  his  son  William,  the  Led- 
yards'  chauffeur,  had  suffered  a  shattered  knee  at  Ypres. 
Miss  Bayne's  description  of  the  lame  chauffeur  who  drove 
the  car  in  which  the  dead  woman  was  brought  to  her  home 
was  too  conclusive  to  be  a  mere  coincidence.  That  scarf 
in  the  hands  of  a  vengeful  maid  was  only  corroborative  evi- 
dence, as  you  see." 

"It  was  great  work,  Paul,  but  don't  spring  a  surprise 
like  that  on  me  again!"  The  Chief  grinned  sheepishly. 
"You  told  me  not  to  expect  too  much  from  Miss  Ledyard's 
statement!  Good  Lord,  if  I'd  expected  half  of  what  was 
coming  I  would  never  have  kicked  about  the  lack  of  progress 
at  the  inquest.  The  press  can  yell  its  fool  head  off  now, 
and  welcome !  Just  wait  till  we  spring  this  on  them !" 

"We've  got  to  have  something  tangible  to  spring  first," 
Paul  reminded  him.  "Of  course,  we  can  hold  Miss  Led- 
yard, the  butler  and  the  chauffeur  as  accessories  after  the 
fact,  but  that  doesn't  get  us  anywhere." 

"Well,  what  do  you  propose  to  do  about  it?"  asked  the 
Chief.  "You  have  no  basis  yet  for  a  charge  against  Swarth- 
more » 


MISS  ADARE  GOSSIPS  161 

"There's  another  woman  in  this  case  who  hasn't  told  all 
she  knows,"  Paul  remarked.  "She  won't,  either,  except  of 
her  own  free  will.  I  tell  you,  Chief,  we've  gone  a  step  or 
two  in  the  right  direction,  but  we're  not  out  of  the  woods 
yet." 

When  he  reached  his  rooms  he  found  Rose  Adare  pa- 
tiently waiting  outside. 

"I  'phoned  right  after  the  funeral,  but  no  one  answered, 
so  I  came  straight  here,"  she  announced.  "I  won't  have 
much  time  to  talk,  for  I've  got  an  appointment  to  attend  to 
some  correspondence  for  Mrs.  Cowles.  I  thought  that  per- 
haps you  could  walk  over  there  with  me ?" 

"Indeed  I  will!"  he  assented  heartily.  "Did  anything 
occur  at  the  funeral  which  struck  you  as  being  significant?" 

"Well,  there  was  the  usual  mob  of  morbid  sight-seers ; 
the  police  had  to  hold  them  back  from  fairly  storming  the 
church,  early  as  it  was."  Rose  fell  into  step  beside  him  and 
went  on.  "I  got  in,  though,  and  managed  to  sit  where  you 
told  me.  Jenny  was  there,  and  the  cook,  and  I  thought 
once  that  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  kitchenmaid,  Sadie, 
but  I  must  have  been  mistaken." 

"Why?"  asked  Paul. 

"Because  she  never  could  have  got  hold  of  the  clothes 
the  girl  that  I  saw  had  on.  They  were  loud  enough  to  wake 
the  dead,  but  expensive !  The  paradise  on  her  hat  alone  was 
worth  fifty  dollars  if  it  cost  a  cent;  and  real  white  fox 
doesn't  grow  on  trees!  There  wasn't  one  of  those  who 
called  themselves  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  friends  in  the  whole 
church,  that  I  could  see,  at  least  none  that  I  recognized,  but 
something  funny  did  happen ;  odd,  I  mean. 

"The  coffin  was  down  the  center  aisle,  in  front  of  the 
altar,  with  a  few  big  set-looking  floral  pieces  grouped  around 
it.  The  service  had  started  and  the  choir  was  chanting 


162  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

when  an  old  man  tottered  down  the  aisle  past  me  toward 
the  altar.  He  looked  almost  seventy,  tall  and  stooping,  with 
scant  white  hair  and  the  palest  face  I  ever  saw ;  like  wax, 
and  deeply  lined.  I  shouldn't  have  noticed  him  particularly 
but  for  the  way  his  watery  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  coffin 
with  a  stare  as  if  he  were  walking  in  his  sleep.  He  kept 
right  on  until  he  stood  beside  the  casket  and  laid  his  tremb- 
ling old  hand  on  it.  An  usher  came  from  behind  me  and 
led  him  back  and  he  looked  rather  bewildered. 

Dr.  Perrine  was  eloquent  in  her  praise,  but  you  could  see 
he  wasn't  any  too  pleased  to  be  conducting  the  service.  I'll 
wager  he  was  shaking  in  his  boots  to  think  of  what  the  wo- 
man he  was  eulogizing  might  turn  out  to  have  been  or  done 
before  ever  she  set  foot  in  his  aristrocratic  parish.  I  fancy 
others  were  thinking  the  same  thing,  for  once  somebody  in 
the  pew  just  behind  me  laughed  right  out ;  not  loudly  but  a 
sort  of  scornful,  derisive  chuckle. 

"I  looked  around  quickly  to  see  who  it  could  have  been. 
There  were  two  fat  women  in  the  pew,  an  old  man  with  his 
mouth  open  and  his  hand  cupped  behind  his  ear,  a  girl 
scribbling  away  in  a  note  book,  an  old  lady  sniffing  and  eat- 
ing peppermints,  a  dark,  thin,  young  man  with  a  smooth  and 
face  and  bold  black  eyes.  He  gave  me  a  sharp  look  and  I 
turned  around  again;  but  it  was  easy  to  see  they  were  all 
just  there  from  curiosity. 

"After  the  service  was  over  I  went  out  and  waited  in 
the  vestibule  as  you  told  me  to  do.  Jenny  and  the  cook 
came  out  together,  talking  so  busily  they  never  noticed  me, 
and  though  I  stood  there  until  everybody  had  gone  I  didn't 
see  a  thing  more  that  would  have  interested  you,  Mr. 
Harvey.  The  people  all  seemed  solemn,  but  there  wasn't 
one  who  looked  as  if  that  death  meant  anything  to  them, 
one  way  or  the  other." 


MISS  ADARE  GOSSIPS  163 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  have  followed  my  instructions  so 
exactly,  Miss  Adare."  Paul  paused  and  glanced  at  her.  "I 
wonder  if  you  would  be  willing  to  help  me  still  further? 
There  is  something  that  only  you  can  accomplish  for  me — " 

"Oh,  what  is  it?"  She  halted  and  turned  sparkling  eyes 
upon  him.  "I'll  do  anything  in  the  world  that  I  can  1" 

"Don't  promise  rashly,"  he  warned.  "What  if  I  should 
ask  you  to  renounce  for  the  time  being  the  principle  on 
which  you  have  built  up  your  business ;  to  carry,  not  to  seek 
information,  and  to  do  it  blindly  without  even  knowing  why? 
Would  you  be  willing  to  do  that  in  order  to  help  me  get  at 
the  truth?" 

She  eyed  him  uneasily.  "Just  what  is  it  you  want  me  to 
do,  Mr.  Harvey?" 

"Gossip !"  he  replied  briefly.  "I  want  you  to  gossip  most 
outrageously;  to  carry  such  a  tale  as  will  make  the  hair 
of  your  client  stand  on  end !  I  cannot  tell  you  my  reasons, 
but  it  is  vitally  important  that  a  certain  bit  of  news  should 
reach  Mrs.  Cowles  without  delay.  You  would  not  be  telling 
any  absolute  falsehood,  for  the  story  you  would  repeat  has 
a  solid  basis  of  fact.  It  will  not  make  any  trouble  for  you 
if  Mrs.  Cowles  is  discreet,  and  I  think  I  can  promise  that 
she  will  be ;  she  will  have  the  best  of  reasons  for  not  permit- 
ting what  you  tell  her  to  go  any  farther.  Will  you  do  this, 
Miss  Adare?" 

She  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"It's  asking  a  good  deal,  Mr.  Harvey,  for  I  vowed  that 
I'd  never  let  a  tattling  word  pass  my  lips  in  business,  but 
if  it  really  is  going  to  help  you  find  the  murderer  of  Mrs. 
Hartshorne,  I'll  chance  it.  What  is  it  that  you  wish  me  to 
tell  Mrs.  Cowles?" 

"Well,  for  a  start,  you  might  reveal  certain  of  your  own 
private  affairs.  You  have  made  a  conquest;  a  young  man 


164  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

is  crazy  about  you,  and  for  all  he  thinks  he  is  clever,  you 
can  wind  him  around  your  little  finger  and  make  him  tell 
you  everything  he  knows."  Paul  smiled.  "That  young  man 
is  myself." 

"What-t!"  She  flushed  scarlet  and  eyed  him  in  blank 
amazement. 

"He  is  quite — er,  official,"  he  laughed.  "Don't  you  see? 
You  have  cajoled  me  into  giving  you  my  confidence,  telling 
you  things  about  the  Hartshorne  investigation  that  the 
newspapers  don't  dream  of.  If  you  only  dared  tell  Mrs. 
Cowles,  she  would  be  the  most  surprised  person  on  earth ! — 
Now,  if  I  read  the  lady  aright,  she  will  move  heaven  and 
earth  to  find  out  what  you  know." 

"I  see,"  Rose  said  slowly.  The  flush  had  died  away. 
"And  what  is  it  that  I  know,  Mr.  Harvey?" 

"That  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  murdered,  not  in  her  own 
home,  but  in  the  conservatory  at  the  Ledyards,  during  the 
dance." 

"You  can't  mean  it!"  She  caught  at  his  arm  as  if  to 
steady  herself.  "Oh,  Mr.  Harvey,  that's  not  the  truth,  is 
it?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Adare.  Please  say  that  was  why  the  con- 
servatory door  was  locked  at  midnight;  don't  forget,  be- 
cause it  was  Mrs.  Cowles  who  discovered  and  remarked 
upon  that  closed  door.  Tell  her,  too,  that  the  body  was 
removed  secretly  to  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  home  after  the  dance, 
that  I  have  absolute  proof  of  all  this,  and  ask  her  if  she 
noticed  anything  strange  in  Miss  Ledyard's  appearance  or 
manner." 

"Miss  Ledyard!"  Rose  gasped.  "Mr.  Harvey,  don't  tell 
me  she  knew  anything  about  it !  I  can't  believe  it,  I  won't ! 
It's  top  horrible." 

"It  was  Miss  Ledyard,  her  butler  and  the  chauffeur  who 


MISS  ADARE  GOSSIPS  165 

took  the  body  home,"  he  explained  quietly.  "But  what  I 
want  you  to  impress  on  Mrs.  Cowles'  mind  is  that  I  am  on 
the  point  of  arresting  Beatrice  Ledyard  for  the  murder  of 
Mrs.  Hartshorne.  She  must  believe  that  absolutely;  that 
is  my  whole  object  in  asking  your  cooperation  in  this.  Mrs. 
Cowles  must  be  sure  that  I  am  convinced  of  her  friend's 
guilt." 

"But  you're  not."  Rose  eyed  him  shrewdly.  "I  can 
scarcely  believe  it  yet,  that  she  was  the  woman  Miss  Bayne 
saw  from  the  window,  but  even  if  she  is,  there  can't  be 
murder  on  her  soul !  You  are  not  going  to  arrest  her !" 

"That  may  be  necessary,  if  your  little  talk  with  Mrs. 
Cowles  does  not  have  the  result  I  hope  for,"  he  responded. 
"You  can  realize  now  how  important  the  task  is,  which  I 
am  giving  you." 

"Oh,  I'll  do  my  very  best!"  She  hesitated  and  then 
asked :  "It  won't  be  bringing  trouble  on  Mrs.  Cowles,  too, 
will  it?" 

"By  no  means.  Mrs.  Cowles  has  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  murder,  herself;  I  can  assure  you  of  that.  The 
next  corner  is  yours  and  I  will  leave  you  now,  Miss  Adare. 
I  hope  you  don't  mind ?" 

"I  don't  mind  anything!"  she  cried  recklessly,  as  she 
gave  him  her  hand.  "This  affair  is  too  terrible!  And  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  gone  too  far  in  it  to  stop  now.  I  would  do 
anything  in  the  world  to  help  you  find  out  who  killed  Mrs. 
Hartshorne !" 

After  her  trim  figure  had  disappeared  around  the  corner 
Paul  paid  a  call  on  a  theatrical  agent  of  his  acquaintance, 
stopped  at  one  of  the  larger  newspaper  offices  and  then  re- 
turned to  his  rooms.  He  had  succeeded  in  the  purpose  of 
his  interview  with  Miss  Ledyard,  but  this  achievement 
left  him  with  no  sense  of  victory.  Instead  he  felt  oddly 


166  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

baffled.  Had  she,  indeed,  killed  Mrs.  Hartshorne?  Had 
Swarthmore ;  or  was  there  still  a  third  as  yet  unknown 
person  to  be  reckoned  with? 

The  telephone  all  at  once  invaded  his  meditation.  At  the 
sound  of  the  agitated  feminine  voice  which  came  to  him 
over  the  wire  he  smiled  in  quiet  exultation. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Harvey?  This  is  Mrs.  Cowles  speaking. 
Mr.  Harvey,  would  you  find  it  convenient  to  call  on  me 
this  evening?  I  have  some — some  information  which  I 
think  would  be  of  value  to  you." 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Cowles.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  what  you 
have  to  tell  me,  but  I  think  that  I  am  already  in  possession 
of  the  main  facts  of  the  case " 

"Oh,  no  you  are  not!"  she  broke  in  upon  him.  "You 
couldn't  be !  What  I  want  to  tell  you  is  known  to  no  one 
in  the  world  but  myself  and  one  other  person.  You  couldn't 
possibly  have  learned  it  and  I  am  sure  it  will  totally  change 
your — whatever  opinion  you  may  have  formed.  Can  you 
come  soon?" 

"In  half  an  hour,  Mrs.  Cowles." 

On  his  arrival,  he  found  the  lady  pacing  the  floor  in  un- 
concealed perturbation.  There  was  no. attempt  at  pose  as 
she  offered  her  cold  little  hand. 

"Mr.  Harvey,  I  don't  want  you  to  scold  me  for  with- 
holding information  from  you  when  you  came  to  see  me 
last  Saturday,"  she  began.  "I  did  not  tell  you  then  only 
because  it  did  not  seem  to  have  any  bearing  on  the  case 
you  were  investigating.  Then,  too,  I  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  being  dragged  into  the  affair  myself,  even  as  a 
witness !" 

"You  have  changed  your  mind  now?"  he  asked  signifi- 
cantly. 

"Yes."     She  flushed.     "I've  been  thinking,  and  it  really 


MISS  ADARE  GOSSIPS  167 

seems  to  be  my  duty  to  tell  you.  Besides,  so  many  wild 
rumors  are  flying  about.  Some  people  question  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  killed  in  her  own  home  where 
she  was  found,  and  I  have  even  heard  it  whispered  that  the 
crime  might  in  some  way  have  been  committed  at  the  Led- 
yards',  during  the  dance.  Of  course  that  is  absurd,  but  it 
convinced  me  that  I  ought  to  tell  you  everything  and  save 
you,  perhaps,  from — from  making  a  terrible  mistake." 

"Thank  you,"  he  responded  quite  gravely.  "I  shall  be 
grateful  if  you  will  tell  me  now." 

"Do  you  remember  asking  me  the  last  time  you  were 
here  if  I  saw  or  heard  anything  at  the  dance  which  might 
have  suggested  a  motive  for  the  crime,  and  I  said  that  as  far 
as  I  knew  Mrs.  Hartshorne  hadn't  an  enemy  in  the  world? 
Well,  I  fibbed,  Mr.  Harvey!  I  daren't  suggest  that  suffi- 
cient motive  for  such  a  crime  was  established,  but  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  made  a  very  bitter  and  vindictive  enemy  that 
night.  I  told  you,  too,  that  I  passed  Mrs.  Hartshorne  in 
the  conservatory  but  did  not  notice  who  her  companion 
was;  that  was  another  fib.  I  did  not  pass  her,  she  never 
even  knew  I  was  there,  and  I  did  see  who  was  with  her 
and  heard  what  passed  between  them." 

"At  what  time  was  this,  Mrs.  Cowles?" 

"Sometime  between  eleven  and  half-past." 

"And  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  companion?" 

"It  was  Cornelius  Swarthmore."  Her  voice  had  sunk  to 
a  whisper  but  she  rallied  quickly  and  went  on :  "I  had 
promised  the  same  dance  to  three  men,  and  I  didn't  know 
how  I  could  get  out  of  it,  so  I  slipped  into  the  conservatory 
and  sat  down  on  a  bench  behind  some  palms.  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne entered  with  Mr.  Swarthmore  and  I  would  have 
made  known  my  presence ;  but  the  first  words  I  heard 
rooted  me  to  the  spot  and  then  it  was  too  late. 


168  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"  'An  older  man,  in  whom  you  can  feel  a  greater  sense 
of  protection?'  Mr.  Swarthmore  seemed  to  be  repeating  the 
words.  He  was  in  one  of  his  seething  rages,  only  more 
intense  than  I  had  ever  seen  him.  'So  you're  throwing  me 
over  for  someone  else?  By  God,  if  it's  that  sanctimonious 
old  goat  Braddock !' 

"I  shrank  back  behind  the  palms,  but  he  evidently  lost 
control  of  himself  and  seized  her,  for  I  heard  the  quick 
rustle  of  her  gown  and  then  she  spoke  in  a  cold,  disdainful 
way  which  must  have  been  maddening  to  him. 

"  'Stop,  please,  you  are  hurting  me.  There  is  no  need 
of  melodrama,  Mr.  Swarthmore,  nor  is  there  occasion  for 
insult.  I  have  exercised  a  woman's  privilege  and  changed 
my  mind,  that  is  all,  and  your  present  mood  shows  me 
that  my  decision  is  a  wise  one.  If  I  choose  to  marry  Mr. 
Braddock  or  anyone  else  that  is  my  affair.' 

He  gave  a  nasty  sort  of  laugh. 

"  'And  only  yesterday  you  permitted  me  to  hold  you  in 
my  arms,  you  promised  to  be  my  wife!  God,  what  an  in- 
fatuated ass  I  was!  I  think  I  understand  you  now.  No 
wonder  you  wanted  to  keep  our  engagement  a  secret! 
You  wouldn't  commit  yourself  publicly  until  you  had  played 
the  bigger  fish  to  see  if  he  would  rise  to  your  bait!  Did 
you  think  me  a  sentimental  boy,  a  fool  of  whom  you  could 
dispose  so  easily?  I  was  disarmed  before  the  woman  I 
thought  you  were,  but  I  know  how  to  deal  with  a  common 
adventuress!  I'll  spoil  your  little  game  for  you ' 

"  'Will  you  really  ?'  Her  tone  seemed  to  be  filled  with 
quiet  amusement.  'What  will  you  do,  Mr.  Swarthmore?' 

"  'I'll  go  to  Braddock  and  show  you  up,  by  God !  I'll 
look  up  that  past  of  yours  and  find  out  why  you've  been  so 
d — d  secretive!  I'll ' 

"  'I  don't  believe  that  you  will  do  any  of  these  things.' 


MISS  ADARE  GOSSIPS  169 

Her  voice  was  still  quiet  but  there  was  something  in  it  like 
the  snap  of  a  whip.  'You  will  remember  that  I  could  show 
you  up  in  turn,  my  friend.' 

"  'What  do  you  mean  ?'  It  sounded  like  the  snarl  of  some 
animal,  the  way  he  spoke. 

"  'How  about  your  contracts  with  the  government  ?  The 
undergrade  stuff  and  the  padded  bids?  Did  you  think  I 
was  a  child  not  to  understand,  to  accept  so  easily  your 
statement  that  there  was  nothing  illegal  about  your  transac- 
tions?" 

"  'Prove  it,"  he  dared  her,  and  she  laughed. 

"  '  My  method  is  not  so  crude  as  yours,  Mr.  Swarthmore ! 
I  never  threaten  anything  I  cannot  prove.  A  certain  private 
secretary  whom  you  discharged  helped  me  to  verify  your 
statements  and  a  foreman  let  out  on  the  last  strike  corro- 
borated him.  I  collected  this  data  merely  as  an  investment 
on  which  it  might  be  possible  for  me  to  realize  some  day. 
Your  animosity  might  drive  me  from  Eastopolis,  but  for  me 
the  world  is  wide ;  for  you  there  is  the  Federal  prison  if  I 
speak !' 

"Well,  after  that  it  seemed  as  though  a  perfect  storm 
of  fury  burst  from  him  upon  her !  I  can't  remember  what 
he  said  or  the  names  he  called  her,  it  all  came  in  such  a 
hideous  rush  of  invective  and  threats  and  curses,  too!  I 
sat  there  stunned  and  shivering  and  I  think  she  must  have 
been  a  little  afraid  of  him,  herself,  for  she  shrank  away 
from  him,  but  he  followed  her.  I  was  simply  dying  to 
escape  without  their  discovering  me,  and  I  peeped  out  be- 
tween the  palms  to  see  if  the  way  was  clear. 

"They  had  retreated  to  the  other  side  of  the  conservatory 
over  by  Colonel  Ledyard's  orchids,  and  with  their  backs 
turned  I  saw  my  chance  and  slipped  out  of  the  door  into 
the  ball-room.  You  don't  know,  Mr.  Harvey,  what  a  relief  it 


i;o  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

was!  I  found  Freddie  Gaylor  and  made  him  sit  out  a 
dance  on  the  stairs  with  me  while  I  collected  myself,  and 
in  a  moment  Mr.  Swarthmore  tore  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  still  in  a  white-hot  rage,  and  made  for  the  cloak- 
room. 

"It  was  then  that  poor  Trix — Miss  Ledyard,  met  him, 
and  tried  to  speak  to  him,  but  he  never  noticed  her  in  his 
fury.  She'd  been  standing  near  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
looking  into  the  ball-room.  As  he  shouldered  his  way  past 
she  laid  her  hands  on  his  arm,  but  she  shook  her  off  un- 
seeingly,  with  a  savage  thrust  like  a  struggling  animal !  He 
must  have  left  the  house  at  once." 

"You  are  sure  of  the  words  you  have  repeated  to  me?" 
Paul  asked. 

"Absolutely!"  Bebe  Cowles  shuddered.  "It  seems  as 
though  they  had  been  stamped  on  my  brain !" 

"But  you  can  remember  no  more?  Nothing  definite  of 
the  threats  Mr.  Swarthmore  uttered  just  before  you  slipped 
away  ?" 

"Isn't  it  enough?"  Her  eyes  widened,  then  she  turned 
her  head  slightly  from  him  and  added  very  low :  "I  never 
saw  Mrs.  Hartshorne  again.  Did  anyone  else?  Did  she 
leave  that  conservatory  alive  ?" 


Chapter  XV. 
THE  SECOND  BULLET. 

"^"^l  ORRY  to  intrude  upon  you  at  such  a  late  hour,  Mr. 

^^    Swarthmore."     Paul's  tone  was  conciliatory,  but 

^-^  beneath  its  smoothness  there  sounded  an  unmistak- 
able note  of  authority.  "A  few  additional  facts  have  come 
to  my  attention  in  the  Hartshorne  case,  and  I  shall  have  to 
ask  you  to  amend  and  amplify  your  former  statement  to 
me." 

"Fire  away,  Mr.  Harvey!"  Swarthmore  smiled,  but  his 
geniality  was  obviously  forced  and  his  dark  eyes  were 
somber.  "Will  you  smoke? — No?  Well,  don't  mind  if  I 
do.  Now  go  ahead ;  I  am  quite  at  your  disposal." 

"You  told  me  that  you  had  shown  Mrs.  Hartshorne  a 
certain  amount  of  attention  because  she  amused  you,  Mr. 
Swarthmore,  but  you  neglected  to  tell  me  that  an  en- 
gagement existed  between  you."  Paul  went  straight  to 
the  point  at  issue. 

"It  did  not,  at  the  time  of  her  death."  Swarthmore 
shrugged.  "I  can't  see  how  you  obtained  that  information, 
and  frankly,  since  she  was  dead,  I  did  not  consider  the  inci- 
dent as  being  anyone's  affair  but  my  own." 

"But  it  was  only  on  the  day  before  the  dance  that  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  promised  to  become  your  wife." 

"Now,  how  the  devil  did  you  know  that!"  Swarthmore 
frowned  and  added  hastily :  "It  makes  no  difference,  how- 
ever; the  engagement  was  just  a  momentary  whim  on  the 

I/I 


172  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

lady's  part.     She  changed  her  mind  almost  immediately." 

"In  favor  of  someone  else?" 

"You  are  going  a  bit  too  far!"  Swarthmore's  voice 
trembled.  "I'm  not  on  the  witness  stand,  you  know.  If 
the  lady  had  made  any  other  matrimonial  plans  she  did 
not  honor  me  with  her  confidence." 

"Mr.  Swarthmore,  I  have  evidence  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
did  acquaint  you  with  her  intention  to  marry  someone  else 
and  that  you  denounced  her  as  an  adventuress  and  threat- 
ened to  expose  her  mercenary  motives  to  the  man  she  had 
chosen ;  Wendle  Braddock." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  The  other  cried.  "Who  gave 
you  that  information?" 

"Someone  who  overheard  a  part  of  your  conversation 
together  in  the  conservatory,"  responded  Paul.  "You  told 
me  that  you  had  had  no  quarrel  with  Mrs.  Hartshorne." 

"Because  it  was  no  one's  d — d  business!"  Swarthmore 
had  sprung  from  his  chair  and  his  face  was  crimson  and 
mottled  with  rage,  but  beneath  the  bluster  there  was  an 
underlying  note  of  fear.  "Who  was  the  eavesdropper? 
What  do  you  know  ?  How  much  did  they  hear  ?  Tell  me, 
or  I'll " 

"Don't  get  excited,  Mr.  Swarthmore;  you  may  need  to 
keep  all  your  wits  about  you,"  Paul  advised  coolly.  "You 
told  Mrs.  Hartshorne  that  you  would  spoil  her  game,  yet 
instead  of  making  good  your  threat  and  denouncing  her  to 
Braddock  when  you  met  him  face  to  face  in  the  ball-room 
door  a  few  minutes  later,  you  merely  laughed  at  him  and 
left  the  house.  Why  did  you  not  keep  your  word?" 

Swarthmore  laughed  harshly  but  in  unmistakable  relief. 

"The  woman  wasn't  worth  it!  I  could  get  even  with 
old  Braddock  more  satisfactorily  by  letting  him  marry  her 
and  find  out  later  the  sort  of  woman  he  was  saddled  with. 


THE  SECOND  BULLET  173 

A  man  may  threaten  anything  in  the  heat  of  passion  and 
then  think  better  of  it." 

"You  are  sure  that  is  why  you  refrained?  You  were  not 
afraid  that  she  would  retaliate  by  making  certain  disclosures 
against  you,  Mr.  Swarthmore  ?" 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  the  other  man 
flung  himself  back  in  his  chair  with  a  gesture  of  surrender. 

"So  your  eavesdropper  heard  that,  too,  did  he?"  he  said 
slowly.  "I've  nothing  more  to  say,  Mr.  Harvey.  I'm  not 
the  first  man  to  meet  his  finish  through  a  woman,  but  by 
God,  she's  paid  for  it,  in  advance!" 

"By  her  death?" 

The  other  nodded  grimly. 

"The  woman  was  a  blackmailer.  Your  informant  must 
have  told  you  that,  if  he  heard  the  whole  altercation.  She 
followed  up  what  I  had  told  her  in  confidence  until  she  had 
the  goods  on  me,  clean;  she  boasted  that  she  had  verified 
my  statements  as  an  investment  on  which  she  could  make 
me  pay  dividends.  She  only  got  what  was  coming  to  her 
and  I'm  ready  to  pay  the  consequences  of  my  own  idiocy. 
I  gambled  and  lost,  that's  all." 

"You  admit,  then,  that  you  killed  her?"  Paul  asked 
quietly. 

"Admit,  nothing!"  Swarthmore  retorted,  staring.  "I'm 
talking  about  my  deals  with  the  government.  I  suppose  it 
is  Atlanta  for  mine,  but  bigger  men  than  I  are  dipping  into 
Uncle  Sam's  pockets  right  now  and  getting  away  with  it. 
If  I  hadn't  gotten  the  graft  some  other  fellow  would.  As 
for  killing  that  woman — Say,  do  you  think  I  broke  into  her 
house,  waited  for  her  to  come  home  and  then  fired  a  shot 
that  would  have  been  calculated  to  bring  a  bunch  of  shriek- 
ing female  servants  about  my  ears?  Do  I  look  like  that 
kind  of  a  boob?" 


174  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"No,  Mr.  Swarthmore,  but  as  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  not 
murdered  in  her  own  home;  as  she  was  shot  there  in  the 
Ledyards'  conservatory  within  a  few  minutes  of  the  time 
you  uttered  your  threat  against  her " 

"What!"  Swarthmore's  face  turned  ashen  and  his  voice 
all  but  failed  him.  "Say  that  again,  Harvey !" 

"She  was  dead  before  you  left  the  house!  Dead  five 
minutes  after  she  intimated  that  she  would  turn  informer 
against  you." 

"It  can't  be!  There's  some  mistake!"  The  amazement 
and  incredulity  in  Swarthmore's  tone  seemed  too  unstudied 
to  have  been  assumed.  "God,  man,  the  thing's  impossible! 
The  shot  would  have  been  heard,  even  above  the  racket  of 
that  confounded  jazz  band,  and  how  could  the  body  have 
been  conveyed  to  her  home?  It  is  absurd,  on  the  face  of 
it." 

Paul's  keen  eyes  had  never  left  the  other's  face  and  now 
they  gleamed  with  a  light  of  newly  found  conviction,  but 
he  spoke  without  a  change  of  tone. 

"It  is  true,  however." 

"Who  did  it?"  Swarthmore  demanded.  "Did  your  busy 
little  eavesdropper  witness  the  murder  ?  I  left  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne with  a  tacit  agreement  to  keep  out  of  each  other's 
game.  If  she  was  killed  so  soon  after  it  may  be  that  your 
informant  had  a  hand  in  it  himself." 

"My  informant  was  a  woman,  Mr.  Swarthmore." 

"A  woman?    Not ?" 

"Miss  Ledyard?"  Paul  finished  for  him  as  he  hesitated. 
"Unfortunately  no.  It  would  have  been  better,  perhaps, 
had  she  learned  how  little  cause  she  had  for  future 
jealousy." 

"We'll  leave  Miss  Ledyard  out  of  this  discussion,  if  you 
please,"  Swarthmore  said  stiffly. 


THE  SECOND  BULLET  175 

"I  am  afraid  that  will  be  impossible,"  Paul  retorted. 
"When  you  left  the  conservatory  and  started  toward  the 
cloak-room,  Miss  Ledyard  tried  to  intercept  you;  but  you 
rejected  her  overtures,  flung  off  the  hand  she  had  laid  upon 
your  arm.  That  was  the  final  straw." 

"I  was  beside  myself,"  explained  Swarthmore.  "I 
realized,  too,  for  the  first  time  in  all  those  weeks,  what  a 
fool  I  had  been.  Beatrice  Ledyard  was  the  last  person  I 
wanted  to  encounter  just  then." 

"That  is  a  pity,  for  Miss  Ledyard  evidently  put  a  wrong 
construction  on  your  manner."  Paul  spoke  casually,  but 
each  word  went  home  to  the  man  before  him.  "Her  pride 
as  well  as  her  heart  were  involved ;  and  that  is  a  dangerous 
combination  with  such  a  woman  as  she.  When  you  repu- 
diated her  so  publicly  you  aroused  a  spirit  of  desperation 
which  would  stop  at  nothing.  Before  you  reached  the  cloak- 
room she  had  entered  the  conservatory " 

"Stop !"  Swarthmore  rose  slowly.  "Why  have  you  come 
to  me?  What  are  you  driving  at?  If  your  eavesdropper 
was  still  there  does  she  dare  to  accuse  Miss  Ledyard ?" 

"My  informant  had  slipped  out  of  the  conservatory  be- 
fore you  left,"  Paul  admitted.  "But  since  it  was  not  you 
who  killed  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  and  I  am  convinced  that  you 
are  telling  the  truth  in  this  respect,  Mr.  Swarthmore,  I  am 
forced  to  conclude " 

"Your  conclusions  are  damnably  false !"  The  other  burst 
in  upon  him.  "I  treated  Miss  Ledyard  like  a  cur,  if  you 
will  have  it  so,  but  she  is  utterly  incapable  of  such  a  crime 
as  you  intimate !  Whatever  her  feeling  toward  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne, she  could  not  have  shot  her  down  in  cold  blood! 
It  is  unthinkable !" 

"I  already  have  proof  that  she  concealed  the  body;  that 
she,  with  the  help  of  two  people  whom  she  trusted,  con- 


176  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

veyed  it  to  the  Farragut  Street  house,"  Paul  continued 
relentlessly.  "She  has  confessed " 

"Confessed!"  The  man  before  him  staggered  as  though 
he  had  received  a  mortal  blow.  "It's  not  true!  Trixy! 
Oh,  my  God!  My  God!" 

"That's  all,  Mr.  Swarthmore."  Paul  rose  and  picked  up 
his  hat. 

The  other  looked  at  him  dazedly. 

"I'm  under  arrest?"  he  asked  in  a  thick,  scarcely  audible 
tone. 

"Not  by  me;  I'm  on  a  murder  case,"  Paul  responded. 
"The  Federal  authorities  have  been  notified,  however.  It  is 
only  fair  to  tell  you  that.  Good-night,  Mr.  Swarthmore!" 

At  noon  the  next  day  Paul  presented  himself  once  more 
at  the  Ledyard  residence.  Hickson,  pale  and  hollow-eyed, 
admitted  him,  and  following  him  into  the  reception  room 
laid  a  shaking  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"Oh,  sir,  you  haven't  come  for  her!"  he  pleaded  in  a 
broken  voice.  "She  didn't  do  it,  Mr.  Harvey!  I  swear  it, 
sir,  she  never  had  a  hand  in  the  lady's  death!  We  only — 
only  took  the  body  home  where  it  rightfully  belonged.  Take 
me  up  for  that  and  William,  too,  but  leave  her  out  of  it,  for 
God's  sake!  It  would  kill  her  father  and  mother,  and  she 
did  nothing  worse  than  try  to  shield  them  from  the  trouble 
that  would  have  come  if  the  body  had  been  found  there !" 

"That's  all  right,  Hickson;  I  haven't  come  to  arrest 
anybody.  But  it  would  have  been  better  for  all  of  you  if 
you  had  told  me  the  truth  from  the  start,"  Paul  returned. 
"Ask  Miss  Ledyard  if  she  will  see  me,  please !" 

"Miss  Ledyard  is  very  ill !"  the  butler  stammered,  adding 
hastily,  "but,  of  course,  she  will  see  you,  sir.  If  you  will 
wait  just  a  few  minutes ?" 

When  she  appeared  Beatrice  Ledyard  bore  out  the  truth 


THE  SECOND  BULLET  177 

of  his  assertion.  She  was  wan  and  haggard  and  from  her 
drawn  face  and  dull,  brooding  eyes  the  last  trace  of  girl- 
hood had  vanished.  It  was  a  woman  desolate  and  all  but 
consumed  with  the  warring  emotions  which  racked  her,  who 
faced  the  detective  from  the  doorway. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me  now,  Mr.  Harvey  ?"  she  asked 
listlessly.  "I  hoped  that  after  yesterday  I  should  be  left  in 
peace  for  a  little  while ;  such  peace  as  I  may  find.  I  suppose 
that  what  I  did  with  the  aid  of  Hickson  and  his  son  may 
constitute  a  violation  of  the  law,  but  I  understand  that  you 
have  not  come  to  place  us  under  arrest?" 

"No,  Miss  Ledyard."  His  tone  was  gravely  considerate. 
"But  did  you  not  stop  to  realize  that  when  your  ruse  was 
discovered,  as  it  must  inevitably  have  been,  you  would  be 
in  a  far  more  serious  position  than  if  you  had  left  the  body 
where  you  discovered  it?" 

"I  never  dreamed  that  anyone  would  know,"  she  re- 
sponded. "My  only  thought  was  to  rid  the  house  of  such  a 
fearful  thing.  It  seemed  to  me  that  if  the  body  were  beyond 
our  threshold,  our  responsibility  would  end.  I  cannot  de- 
scribe it,  but  it  was  the  same  instinctive  feeling  with  which 
one  struggles  to  throw  off  a  nightmare." 

"But  why  did  you  take  the  initiative  ?  Would  not  instinct 
have  directed  you  to  summon  your  natural  orotector,  your 
father?"  Paul  insisted  gently. 

Her  gesture  of  repudiation  was  unguarded. 

"No !  My  father  would  never  have  permitted  the  removal 
of  the  body  in  that  way.  He  would  have  made  a  scene, 
locked  the  doors,  summoned  the  police  and  precipitated  us 
all  into  a  scandal  we  could  never  have  lived  down." 

"Was  it  the  scandal  alone  which  you  dreaded,  Miss  Led- 
yard, or  had  you  cause  for  greater  apprehension  in  the 
locking  of  the  doors  and  arrival  of  the  police?"  He  gazed 


178  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

levelly  into  her  eyes.  "Was  there  not  something  which 
preyed  upon  you  more  than  the  scandal,  a  revelation  which 
must  be  averted  at  all  costs?  Was  it  fear  of  notoriety  or 
fear  lest  we  discover  the  truth  which  led  you  to  plan  sc 
reckless  and  hazardous  a  maneuver  ?" 

"What  had  I  to  fear?"     I  did  not  kill  Mrs.  Hartshorne." 

"Miss  Ledyard," — he  changed  his  tactics  abruptly — "you 
told  us  yesterday  that  you  helped  your  mother  to  receive 
and  then  danced  like  the  rest.  Do  you  remember  where  you 
were  at  the  moment  when  you  became  dizzy  and  fatigued 
and  decided  to  seek  refuge  in  the  conservatory?" 

"No."  There  was  a  note  of  awakened  caution  in  her 
monosyllabic  response  and  she  seemed  to  be  gathering  her 
all  but  spent  forces  to  meet  the  fresh  attack. 

"You  were  not  dancing,  or  your  partner  would  have  ac- 
companied you.  Were  you  not  in  the  hall,  near  the  foot  of 
the  staircase?" 

"I  do  not  know ;  I  may  have  been." 

"Did  not  the  impulse  come  to  you  to  go  to  the  conserva- 
tory immediately  after  your  repulse  by  Mr.  Cornelius 
Swarthmore,  after  you  had  laid  your  hand  upon  his  arm  as 
he  charged  past  you  in  the  crowd,  and  had  shaken  you  off 
roughly  without  a  word  or  glance  of  recognition  ?" 

"Ah !"  The  little  cry  was  like  a  quivering  breath  of  pain. 
Paul  pressed  home  his  advantage. 

"From  where  you  stood  in  the  hall,  the  conservatory 
door  was  visible  across  a  corner  of  the  ball-room.  You 
had  seen  Cornelius  Swarthmore  emerge  from  it,  read  the 
murderous  fury  in  his  face  and  strove  to  intercept  him. 
When  you  failed,  was  it  not  then  that  the  impulse  came  to 
go  to  enter  the  conservatory  and  find  out  for  yourself  what 
had  so  enraged  him?  Did  you  perhaps  have  a  premonition 
pf  what  you  would  discover  there  ?" 


THE  SECOND  BULLET  179 

"Stop!"  She  put  her  hands  wildly  to  her  head  as  if  to 
shut  out  the  inexorable  voice.  "It  isn't  true !  You  are  try- 
ing to  build  up  a  case  on  idle  gossip  and  lies,  lies!  I  did 
make  an  attempt  to  speak  to  Mr.  Swarthmore,  but  he  was 
too  excited  and  preoccupied  to  stop  in  that  throng.  I  doubt 
if  he  recognized  me  or  was  conscious  that  a  hand  had  de- 
tained him.  He  did  seem  irritated  and  annoyed  but  not — 
not  to  the  extent  you  have  been  told ;  that  is  a  baseless  ex- 
aggeration. It  was  fully  five  minutes,  possibly  ten,  after 
his  departure  that  I  entered  the  conservatory  and  found  her 
lying  there,  more  than  time  enough  for  anyone  else  to  have 
fired  the  shot  and  escaped.  I  tell  you  Neely  Swarthmore  is 
innocent !" 

For  all  the  vehemence  of  her  words,  a  blank  look  of 
terror  overspread  her  drawn  face,  in  which  there  was  no 
element  of  surprise  or  amazement.  It  was  manifest  beyond 
all  doubt  that  the  thought  had  haunted  her  and  even  as  she 
so  fiercely  repudiated  it,  returned  to  torture  her  afresh. 

Paul  drew  a  deep  breath.  But  in  the  midst  of  his  elation 
at  the  point  scored  there  came  once  more  the  sensation  of 
defeat.  Both  Swarthmore  and  Miss  Ledyard  were  inno- 
cent. Who,  then,  was  the  mysterious  third  factor  in  the 
case  and  what  was  his  motive?  With  consummate  nerve 
and  daring,  with  the  patience  of  a  grievance  long  nursed, 
he  must  have  watched  and  bided  his  time  until  the  psycho- 
logical moment  between  Swarthmore's  precipitate  departure 
from  the  conservatory  and  Miss  Ledyard's  entrance.  His 
victim  had  recognized  him,  had  read  his  purpose  and  sought 
to  avert  it  when  she  drew  the  pistol  with  which  she  had  been 
armed  every  hour,  sleeping  and  waking,  since  the  previous 
Tuesday  night.  Had  he  wrested  the  weapon  from  her, 
fired  the  shot  from  it  and  then  waited  to  replace  it  in  her 
dying  hand?  It  seemed  unlikely,  and  yet  one  shell  had 


i8o  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

been  discharged  from  it  and  the  bullet  which  killed  her 
had  been  of  the  same  calibre. 

Paul  aroused  himself  from  his  reverie  with  a  quick  thrill 
of  compunction  for  prolonging  the  mental  agony  of  the 
young  woman  before  him. 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Swarthmore  is  guiltless  after  all,  Miss 
Ledyard,"  he  conceded.  "But  if  we  are  to  save  him  from 
arrest  on  such  a  charge  as  murder  we  must  lose  no  time  in 
finding  out  who  was  responsible  for  the  crime.  Could  you 
— do  you  feel  strong  enough — to  accompany  me  to  the 
conservatory  ?" 

"Oh,  yes !"  A  faint  color  had  sprung  to  her  wan  cheeks, 
a  faint  light  suffused  her  eyes.  She  rose  with  alacrity. 
"Hickson  found  the  empty  cartridge  shell  this  morning, 
half-buried  in  the  soft  loam  among  the  orchids;  but  I'm 
afraid  you  won't  find  any  other  clues." 

The  conservatory  presented  a  vastly  different  appearance 
with  the  noonday  sun  streaming  in  through  the  close-set 
windows  upon  the  glowing  masses  of  vari-colored  blossoms, 
than  when  Paul  had  last  seen  it  shrouded  in  gloom.  On 
the  threshold  Beatrice  Ledyard  faltered  and  hung  back ; 
but  Paul  walked  straight  to  the  orchid  bed  and  turning  with 
his  back  to  it  gazed  about  him  with  minute  care  and  atten- 
tion to  every  possible  detail. 

At  his  left  through  the  open  door  he  glimpsed  a  corner 
of  the  ball-room  and  in  a  direct  line  with  his  eye,  the 
alcove  where  the  jazz  band  had  been  stationed ;  at  his  right 
down  the  vista  of  the  conservatory  the  closed  door  at  the 
end  loomed  blankly,  while  before  him  and  behind,  the  walls 
of  glass  separated  by  narrow  strips  of  wood  and  masonry 
rose  to  meet  the  concave  panes  of  the  dome.  It  was  much 
the  same  survey  that  he  had  made  on  the  previous  Saturday. 
Yet  he  seemed  still  unsatisfied. 


THE  SECOND  BULLET  181 

"Miss  Ledyard,"  he  turned  to  her  at  length.  "Will  you 
ask  Hickson  to  bring  me  a  step-ladder,  please;  one  tall 
enough  to  reach  the  base  of  the  dome,  if  you  have  one." 

"We  have,  of  course." 

As  she  vanished  to  give  the  order  Paul  glanced  again 
at  the  sealed  door.  If  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  been  impelled 
to  whirl  and  face  it,  the  shot  which  entered  her  heart  might 
have  come  from  any  one  of  that  row  of  windows  before 
him. 

When  Hickson  appeared  with  the  ladder  Paul  mounted  it 
and  patiently  scanned  each  inch  of  the  wood  panelling  be- 
tween the  windows,  starting  at  the  farther  end  and  working 
toward  a  spot  opposite  the  orchid  bed. 

Watching  him,  Beatrice  Ledyard  temporarily  forgot  her 
dread,  and  slipping  down  the  narrow  aisle  seated  herself  on 
a  bench  beneath  an  orange  tree,  her  eyes  following  his 
every  move. 

"What  is  it  that  you  are  looking  for?"  she  ventured  after 
an  interval. 

"Something  which  may  exist  only  in  a  theory  of  mine," 
he  responded.  "Nevertheless,  it  is  worth  testing,  I  think. 
Do  you  know,  Miss  Ledyard,  if  any  of  these  windows  were 
open  on  the  night  of  the  dance?" 

"I  am  positive  that  they  were  not.  My  father  had  given 
strict  orders  to  that  effect  because  of  the  orchids;  he  is 
dreadfully  fussy  about  the  temperature." 

"It  is  unlikely,"  he  pursued,  "that  a  pane  of  glass  in  any 
of  them  was  shattered  and  replaced,  say,  on  Friday  morn- 
ing." 

"Quite.  I  am  sure,  in  fact  I  know,  that  nothing  of  the 
sort  occurred,  for  Hickson  and  I  searched  here  for  possible 
clues  on  Friday  and  we  would  have  noticed  it" 

Paul  had  reached  the  tenth  window  from  the  end  and 


182  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

directly  across  from  the  orchid  bed,  when  he  gave  a  low 
cry  of  triumph.  Pulling  a  pen-knife  from  his  pocket,  he 
hacked  at  the  woodwork  at  a  distance  of  approximately 
fifteen  feet  from  the  floor. 

"Oh,  what  is  it?"  Miss  Ledyard  rose.  "What  have  you 
found?" 

"This  1"  He  ran  down  the  ladder  and  held  a  small,  round 
object  out  upon  his  palm  for  her  inspection. 

Miss  Ledyard  gave  one  horrified  glance  and  then  shrank 
away. 

"A  bullet!"  she  cried. 

Paul  nodded. 

"The  bullet  from  her  pistol,"  he  announced.  "Her  shot 
went  wild,  you  see,  and  it  is  imbedded  in  the  woodwork; 
the  miracle  of  it  is  that  it  struck  there  instead  of  shattering 
one  of  the  windows.  It  was  not  only  the  result  of  a  murder 
which  you  came  upon,  Miss  Ledyard,  but  of  a  duel  as 
well!" 

"Excuse  me,  sir.  You  are  wanted  on  the  telephone." 
Hickson's  head  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "The  gentleman 
won't  give  his  name,  sir,  and  he — he  seems  urgent." 

"Say,  what  are  you  doing  anyway?"  The  Chief's  exas- 
perated voice  reached  Paul's  ears  over  the  wire.  "I've 
tried  to  get  you  everywhere  else  in  this  town!  Do  you 
know  Cornelius  Swarthmore  has  skipped?" 

"That's  all  right!"  laughed  Paul.  "We  don't  want  him! 
The  Federal  authorities  are  on  his  trail  and  he  can't  get 
far ;  they'll  attend  to  his  case." 

"Federal — !"  The  Chief  was  evidently  having  difficulty 
with  his  speech. 

"For  defrauding  the  government,"  Paul  explained.  "He 
had  nothing  to  do  with  our  case,  and  neither  had  the — the 
person  we  suspected.  The  trouble  with  us,  sir,  is  that  we've 
been  playing  the  favorites,  but  we've  got  to  pick  a  dark 
horse  now,  to  win." 


Chapter  XVI. 
THE  WARNING. 

LEAVING  the  Ledyard  residence  Paul  Harvey  looked 
in  on  his   friend  the  theatrical  booking  agent  and 
found  him  literally  barricaded  in  his  private  office 
while  the  outer  rooms  were  jammed  to  overflowing  with  a 
surging  mass  of  showily  bedizened  femininity. 

"Say,  Harvey,  you  ain't  got  your  nerve  or  nothing, 
wishin'  this  here  Battalion  of  Death  on  me,  have  you?"  Mr. 
Glaub  expostulated  aggrievedly.  "Never  since  I'm  in  the 
business  have  I  seen  such  a  fool  ad,  as  this  one  that  I  let 
you  put  my  name  to,  without  even  lookin'  at  it  I  For  Gawd's 
sake  why  didn't  you  leave  me  the  wording  of  it?" 

"Because  you  would  never  have  caught  the  fish  I'm  after 
with  the  bait  you  would  use."  Paul  responded,  laughingly. 

"Maybe  not,  but  I  ain't  draggin'  the  river  for  every  wall- 
eyed pike  that  wants  to  break  into  the  fillums!"  retorted 
Mr.  Glaub,  thumping  the  newspaper  spread  out  before  him. 
"Listen  here.  'Young  girl  for  star  emotional  parts  in  fea- 
ture motion  pictures.  Must  be  good  dresser.  Experience 
unnecessary.  Exceptional  opportunity  for  big  career.'  Say, 
you  don't  advertise  for  that  kind ;  you  do  a  Pavlowa  to  side- 
step 'em.  Did  you  get  that  bunch  out  there?  I've  been 
weedin'  'em  out  all  morning  an'  still  they  come!  The  one 
you're  after  ain't  showed  up  yet,  though." 

"Give  her  time,"  advised  Paul.  "You  haven't  forgotten 
what  I  told  you  about  the  white  fox  scarf  and  the  paradise 
in  her  hat?" 

183 


184  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Time?"  Mr.  Glaub  snorted  ignoring  the  question  as 
superfluous.  "I  got  to  get  nine  acts  for  the  southern  cir- 
cuit by  five  o'clock  and  a  full  chorus  of  twelve  for  Minck's 
Babydoll  Burlesquers.  Oser,  I  should  got  time  to  burn! 
You  done  me  a  good  turn,  Harvey,  when  you  fixed  it  that 
I  shouldn't  get  stuck  with  the  four  thousand  bucks  counter- 
feit that  Reuhl  crowd  passed  on  me,  an'  I  ain't  forgettin'  it, 
but  I  ask  you  is  it  good  business  for  the  office  of  a  high 
class,  exclusive  B.  A.  to  look  like  a  refugee  station  ?  Vallory 
come  in  from  across  the  hall  just  now  to  ask  me  was  I 
opening  up  a  matrimonial  bureau  or  holdin'  a  suffrage 
rally !" 

"Vallory?"  Paul  repeated  quickly.  "The  jazz  band 
leader?" 

"That's  him.  Smart  feller,  too.  He's  got  all  the  big 
bugs  goin'  with  a  collection  of  sour  notes  an'  boiler  factory 
noises  that  would  have  got  the  hook  in  a  Mississippi  boat 
show  a  few  years  ago.  Don't  it  beat  all  what  the  public'll 
stand  for?" 

"It  does,"  Paul  rose.  "I'm  not  going  to  take  up  any 
more  of  your  valuable  time.  Let  me  know  if  the  movie 
aspirant  I'm  after  shows  up  and  keep  her  till  you  get  me, 
will  you?" 

"Sure  I'll  keep  her,"  affirmed  Mr.  Glaub.  "But  you 
might  give  'em  the  once-over  yourself  as  you  go  out." 

Paul  darted  one  swift  comprehensive  glance  about  at  the 
sea  of  eager  faces  which  confronted  him  and  then  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  to  the  hall.  On  a  door  opposite  he  saw  in  im- 
posing gilt  letters  "Vallory's  Jazz  Orchestra,"  and  in  a 
lower  corner  of  the  glass  panelling  "Max  Vallory,  Conduc- 
tor." 

He  paused  for  a  moment  in  thought,  knocked  lightly  and 
then  without  awaiting  a  response  he  turned  the  knob  and 


THE  WARNING  185 

entered.  A  gawky,  freckle-faced  youth  was  seated  behind 
the  desk,  a  smiling  young  woman  was  tapping  vigorously 
away  on  a  typewriter  and  from  behind  a  closed  door  marked 
"private"  came  a  thin,  melodious  whistle  repeating  a  bar  or 
two  of  a  popular  refrain  over  and  over  with  a  slow,  drawl- 
ing syncopation  that  was  irresistible. 

Before  Paul  could  voice  a  query  the  door  opened  and  a 
slim,  nattily  dressed  figure  stood  before  him.  The  man 
appeared  young  at  first  sight,  but  a  closer  inspection  re- 
vealed mature  lines  about  his  clean-cut  jaw  and  lips  and 
the  melancholy  expression  of  his  dark  eyes  ill  accorded 
with  the  careless  merry  whistle  of  a  moment  before. 

As  his  glance  rested  upon  Paul  he  smiled  pleasantly  and 
came  forward. 

"You  are  looking  for  me?"  he  asked  speaking  with  a 
slight,  indefinable  accent.  "I'm  Max  Vallory." 

His  white  teeth  flashed  as  his  face  lightened  and  Paul 
noted  the  lithe,  cat-like  grace  of  movement  which  told  of 
the  trained  body  of  an  athlete. 

"Yes,"  he  responded.  "Can  you  give  me  a  few  minutes, 
Mr.  Vallory?  I've  come  upon  a  confidential  matter " 

The  other  waved  him  into  the  private  office. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I'm  Harvey,  a  special  investigator  employed  on  the 
Hartshorne  case,"  Paul  announced.  "You  know  of  course, 
Mr.  Vallory,  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  a  guest  at  the  Red 
Cross  dance  given  by  Mrs.  Amasa  Ledyard  last  Thursday 
night,  at  which  you  appeared  with  your  orchestra." 

Vallory  nodded. 

"I  read  of  it  in  the  papers  the  next  day,"  he  said  gravely. 
"Bad  business,  wasn't  it? 

"Very,"  Paul  agreed.  "Did  you  know  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
by  sight?" 


186  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"No.  I  never  was  engaged  to  play  for  her  at  any  of  her 
affairs.  That's  the  only  way  I  would  come  in  contact  with 
swells,  you  know,"  Vallory  observed  frankly.  "She  hasn't 
given  any  entertainments  on  a  large  scale,  has  she?  You 
see,  I've  only  been  in  town  a  short  time,  Mr.  Harvey,  but 
I'm  booked  solid  ahead  now ;  the  Ledyards'  is  only  the  fifth 
place  at  which  I've  appeared  outside  of  the  Grosvenor  grill, 
where  we  played  for  two  weeks.  Before  that  we  toured 
the  country.  You'll  hear  a  lot  of  fellows  claiming  the 
credit,  but  I  developed  the  jazz  idea  as  we  work  it;  de- 
veloped it  from  a  ragged  bunch  of  negro  musicians  doing 
comedy  stunts  on  a  levee  two  or  three  years  ago.  I  picked 
my  own  men  wherever  I  could  find  a  clown  with  an  ear 
for  music  or  a  player  with  a  funny  streak  in  him  and  I've 
got  an  aggregation  that  it  would  be  hard  to  beat.  We've 
been  a  riot  from  coast  to  coast — but  you're  not  here  to  talk 
shop,  are  you  ?  What's  the  dope  that  you  want  from  me  ?" 

"As  you  must  be  aware  also  from  the  newspapers,  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  was  not  seen  by  anyone  after  leaving  the  dance 
until  her  body  was  discovered  in  her  home  the  next  day." 
Paul  chose  his  words  with  care.  "It  is  a  part  of  my  neces- 
sary routine  work,  therefore,  to  trace  her  movements  during 
the  evening  at  the  Ledyards'.  You  did  not  know  her,  but 
perhaps  you  may  recognize  a  description  of  her  costume 
and  general  appearance.  She  was  of  medium  height  and 
pretty,  with  bluish  eyes  and  brown  hair,  and  she  wore  a 
peach-colored  satin  dance  frock  trimmed  with  silver  and 
a  string  of  pearls " 

Vallory  laughed. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Harvey,  but  that's  too  many  for  me! 
There  seemed  to  be  a  thousand  people  there,  and  I  don't 
have  any  time  to  rubber  around  at  the  guests  where  we 
play!  If  you'd  ever  seen  and  heard  us,  you  would  know 


THE  WARNING 

that  I'm  about  the  busiest  man  in  seven  states  when  we  get 
going!  I  play  the  bass  drum,  snare  drum,  cymbals,  rattles, 
cow-bells  and  every  other  noise-producing  instrument  I  can 
lay  my  hands  on,  and  keep  up  a  running  fire  of  acrobatic 
comedy  going  at  the  same  time,  besides  directing  and  w  atrh- 
ing  my  men.  I  tell  you  it's  no  cinch.  When  I  finish  with 
a  number  I'm  about  all  in!" 

"I  believe  you."  Paul  smiled  and  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  folded  sheet  of  paper.  "I  have  here  a  rough  diagram  of 
the  Ledyards'  ball-room.  Here  is  where  your  orchestra  was 
stationed  in  this  alcove,  was  it  not?" 

The  jazz  leader  spread  the  paper  out  on  his  desk. 

"Yes.  That  double  door  opposite,  across  the  ball-room, 
led  into  the  hall.  And  this  smaller  door  in  the  side  wall  to 
our  left  opened  into  some  kind  of  a  sun  parlor  or  conserva- 
tory, I  think.  Anyway,  I  remember  noticing  a  lot  of  palms 
and  things  in  there  when  the  door  was  open  during  the  first 
part  of  the  evening.  I  would  have  given  something  for  a 
chance  to  get  in  there  and  cool  off!" 

"You  say  the  door  was  open  the  first  part  of  the  evening. 
Was  it  closed  later?"  Paul  asked  in  a  simulation  of  care- 
less surprise. 

"Yes.  We  laid  off  during  the  supper  hour  and  a  string 
orchestra  played,  while  we  had  a  bite  to  eat  ourselves  in 
one  of  the  smaller  reception  rooms,"  Vallory  explained. 
"When  we  went  back  to  the  ball-room  I  noticed  that  the 
door  was  shut  and  I  guess  it  stayed  so  the  rest  of  the  night." 

"Did  you  observe  anyone  at  all  who  went  in  or  out  of 
the  conservatory  during  the  earlier  hours  ?" 

"No,  I  can't  say  that  I  did,"  the  other  responded  candidly 
after  a  pause.  "I'd  like  to  help  you  out,  but  honestly  I 
didn't  notice  anybody.  It's  some  job  to  keep  up  the  pace 
we  hit!" 


i88  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Did  you  hear  anything  from  that  direction?"  Paul  per- 
sisted. "Any  noise  like  a  cry  or  an  explosion  ?" 

Vallory  chuckled  again. 

"Say,  I  wouldn't  hear  a  fifty-five  shell  if  it  went  off  in 
front  of  me  when  we're  playing!"  Then  his  face  grew 
grave  once  more.  "You  don't  mean  that  anything  hap- 
pened there!  The  lady  wasn't  shot !" 

"I  don't  think  it  is  likely."  Paul  picked  up  his  hat.  "Still, 
nobody  knows  when  she  left,  and  as  she  wasn't  seen  alive 
afterwards,  I've  got  to  look  into  every  possible  contingency." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  I  can't  help  you  any,"  Vallory  said 
cordially.  "You're  up  against  a  tough  proposition,  all  right. 
IVe  seen  more  than  one  nasty  scrap  in  my  time,  but  this  is 
the  nearest  I  ever  came  to  a  murder  in  swell  society !  Say, 
I  wish  you'd  come  and  hear  us  play  sometime.  We're  going 
to  give  a  couple  of  open  air  concerts  in  Bainbridge  Park  to 
boost  the  next  government  loan.  Why  don't  you  drop 
around  ?" 

Paul  promised  and  took  his  departure,  the  plaintive, 
monotonous  whistle  following  him  down  the  hall  to  the 
elevator.  The  impulse  which  had  led  him  to  the  one 
possible  witness  of  that  tragic  scene  in  the  conservatory 
had  been  an  idle  one  and  he  had  not  anticipated  any  startling 
revelation,  yet  he  felt  an  odd  sense  of  disappointment  that 
the  luck  which  had  favored  him  so  far  in  his  investigation 
should  fail  him  now. 

In  spite  of  all  that  he  had  accomplished  he  seemed  to 
be  back  again  at  the  starting  point;  his  discoveries,  im- 
portant as  they  were,  had  led  him  no  nearer  to  the  ultimate 
solution  and  the  mystery  was  as  deep  as  at  the  moment 
when  he  had  first!  laid  eyes  upon  the  slain  woman. 

But  one  ray  of  light  appeared  to  point  to  a  possible  re- 
maining clue;  Rose  Adare  and  the  servants  of  the  Harts- 


THE  WARNING  189 

home  household  had  testified  to  an  abrupt  and  inexplic- 
able change  in  the  demeanor  of  their  mistress  dating  back 
to  the  previous  Tuesday  night,  just  a  week  ago.  That  this 
change  had  been  due  to  fear  there  could  be  no  doubt;  fear 
for  her  very  life,  of  the  doom  which  eventually  did  over- 
take her,  for  from  that  night,  too,  she  had  armed  herself. 

Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  dined  at  the  Gaylors',  gone  to  the 
Ledyards'  to  play  bridge,  then  suddenly  pleaded  an  excuse 
and  with  Swarthmore's  escort  returned  to  her  home.  The 
swift  change  had  come  to  her  at  the  Ledyards',  but  it  was 
inconceivable  that  an  impertinent  question  or  two  from  the 
lips  of  a  jealous  girl  should  have  wrought  such  a  metamor- 
phosis. What  subtle  alarm  could  have  reached  her,  what 
note  of  warning  sounded  in  her  ears? 

At  half -past  three  that  afternoon  when  the  closing  market 
reports  were  in  from  Wall  Street  and  his  business  of  the 
day  was  transacted,  Colonel  Ledyard  was  on  the  point 
of  leaving  his  office  when  Paul  Harvey  was  ushered  in. 

"Bless  my  soul,  I  thought  you  had  finished  with  us!" 
the  rotund  little  man  exclaimed  good-naturedly.  "I'll  know 
enough  never  to  commit  a  murder  in  this  town,  by  Gad! 
What  are  you  after  now,  Mr.  Harvey?" 

"Just  a  little  additional  information  about  Mrs.  Harts- 
home,  Colonel  Ledyard,"  Paul  responded.  "Do  you  re- 
member the  last  time  you  saw  her  prior  to  the  dance  ?" 

The  Colonel  pondered  for  a  moment  and  then  nodded 
vigorously. 

"I  do.  It  was  on  Tuesday,  when  she  dropped  in  for  a 
bridge  rubber  or  two." 

"Which  she  did  not  remain  to  play,"  supplemented  Paul. 

"No;  had  a  headache  or  something.  Swarthmore  took 
her  home.  You've  heard  about  Swarthmore,  haven't  you? 
The  Federal  authorities !" 


190  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Yes,  Colonel  Ledyard."  Paul  stemmed  the  other's  flow 
of  words.  "But  about  Tuesday  evening.  Do  you  recall 
the  subject  of  the  conversation  just  before  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne's  arrival?" 

"We  were  discussing  her,"  replied  the  older  man  with 
some  hesitation.  "Wendle  Braddock,  Dr.  Perrine  and  Mrs. 
Cowles  had  dined  with  us,  and  the  ladies  had  their  coffee  in 
the  drawing-room.  When  we  joined  them  they  were  pull- 
ing Mrs.  Hartshorne  to  pieces ;  at  least,  Trixy  was.  My 
wife  was  defending  her  while  Mrs.  Cowles  was  on  the 
fence,  so  to  speak;  you  know  what  women  are! 

"Then  Trix  lit  into  us  and  called  our  attention  to  the 
fact  of  how  little  we  knew  about  Mrs.  Hartshorne  and  her 
past.  Wendle  Braddock  was  standing  up  for  her,  when 
she  was  announced  with  Mr.  Swarthmore." 

"She  did  not  at  first  mention  her  headache  ?" 

"Oh,  no!  She  was  talking  in  a  most  animated  manner 
with  Dr.  Perrine,  Wendle  Braddock  and  me,  when  Trix 
came  up  and  joined  in  the  conversation,  switching  it  rather 
abruptly  to  the  past  and  asking  Mrs.  Hartshorne  one  or  two 
pointed  questions.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  replied  in  an  evasive 
sort  of  way  and  almost  immediately  pleaded  a  headache 
and  left.  Braddock  and  Swarthmore  had  a  little  tilt,  as  I 
remember,  over  the  question  of  escorting  her  home,  and 
Swarthmore  won  out." 

"What  was  the  subject  of  the  conversation  between  Mrs. 
Hartshorne,  Mr.  Braddock,  Dr.  Perrine  and  yourself  when 
your  daughter  joined  you?"  Paul  asked. 

"Good  Lord,  man,  I  don't  know !  We  were  all  a  bit 
embarrassed,  you  see,  because  we  had  been  discussing  her 
at  the  moment  of  her  arrival  and  we  manufactured  small 
talk  to  fill  in  the  gap."  Colonel  Ledyard  paused.  "But  let 
me  see.  As  I  recall  it,  Dr.  Perrine  started  the  ball  rolling 


THE  WARNING  191 

by  mentioning  some  charity  work  connected  with  his  parish, 
in  which  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  interested.  I  didn't  pay 
much  attention,  but  it  was  something  about  a  banking  and 
loan  association.  Braddock  took  a  hand  and  the  talk 
drifted  to  small  investors  in  general  and  how  they  were 
the  first  and  greatest  victims  of  irregularity  and  fraudulent 
conversion  on  the  part  of  bank  officials.  Braddock  had  just 
cited  the  case  of  a  bank  President  in  a  smaller  city  who  had 
wrecked  the  institution  by  speculating  with  the  funds  of  the 
investors  and  gone  to  Atlanta  for  it,  when  Trix  joined  us." 

Paul  leaned  forward  with  an  intent,  eager  look  in  his 
eyes. 

"Who  was  this  banker?    From  what  city?" 

Colonel  Ledyard  shook  his  head. 

"There  you  have  me.  I  don't — "  He  caught  himself  up 
and  slapped  his  desk  resoundingly.  "Gad,  I  remember  now, 
because  Braddock  said  the  old  chap  had  just  been  liberated 
on  a  suspended  sentence  on  the  score  of  ill-health  after 
serving  four  of  a  twenty-year  term.  It  was  Zenas  Prall, 
President  of  the  Riverboro  Bank." 

Paul  sat  back  in  his  chair. 

"Did  Mrs.  Hartshorne  seem  interested  in  the  conversa- 
tion ?"  he  asked. 

"She  was  always  interested  in  whatever  was  said  around 
her.  That  was  one  of  her  greatest  charms ;  any  topic,  from 
the  fate  of  nations  to  the  price  of  brass  tacks,  seemed  to 
arouse  her  enthusiasm.  She'd  hang  on  your  words  as  if 
you  were  the  last  authority.  Deucedly  clever,  whatever  else 
she  was!"  the  Colonel  conceded.  "She  said  something,  I 
remember,  about  it  being  very  sad  and  tragic  for  the  banker 
to  have  ruined  his  career,  but  her  sympathies  were  naturally 
on  the  side  of  his  victims.  She  could  always  be  depended 
On  to  say  the  right  thing." 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Well,  I  won't  detain  you  any  longer,"  Paul  observed, 
rising.  "But  what  was  your  own  personal  opinion,  Colonel 
Ledyard,  of  the  controversy  your  daughter  had  started? 
Did  you  agree  with  her  that  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  been  ac- 
cepted too  readily  without  credentials?" 

"I  was  on  the  fence,  too,  like  Mrs.  Cowles."  The  Colonel 
laughed.  "It  did  strike  me,  when  Trix  spoke,  that  we  had 
all  been  pretty  easy,  but  I  never  suspected  that  there  was 
anything  actually  wrong  with  the  little  woman ;  I  don't  know 
what  to  think  even  now.  Her  financial  affairs  were  straight 
as  a  string  and  she  didn't  seem  the  kind  to  get  mixed  up  in 
a  personal  scandal.  I  hope  you'll  let  us  know  when  you 
discover  anything." 

Paul  went  straight  to  Headquarters  and  sought  an  inter- 
view with  his  Chief,  during  which  he  told  him  of  the  dis- 
covery of  the  second  bullet  and  all  that  it  implied. 

"I  examined  those  windows  in  the  conservatory  very  care- 
fully," he  added.  "None  of  the  panes  of  glass  had  been  re- 
placed recently,  but  the  catch  was  comparatively  simple,  and 
a  window  pole  stood  in  a  corner.  In  spite  of  the  Colonel's 
orders  that  the  windows  should  remain  closed  it  would  have 
been  a  simple  matter  for  any  of  the  guests  to  have  opened 
one,  if  he  or  she  felt  inclined  for  more  air." 

"How  about  the  outside?"  demanded  the  Chief.  "Could 
they  have  been  opened  from  there?" 

"No.  The  sash  could  not  have  been  reached,  in  the  first 
place.  After  replying  to  your  telephone  call,  I  went  over 
the  ground  thoroughly.  The  windows  open  on  a  narrow 
strip  of  garden  and  are  about  ten  feet  from  the  ground, 
with  a  ledge  running  along  the  entire  length  four  feet  below 
the  level  of  the  windows,  upon  which  a  reasonably  active 
person  might  easily  climb  from  the  steps  at  the  end  that 
lead  up  to  the  sealed  door.  There  was  access  to  the  garden 


THE  WARNING  193 

through  the  tradesman's  gate,  which  I  ascertained  was  left 
open  on  the  night  of  the  dance  for  the  employees  of  the 
caterer." 

"But  look  here!"  Chief  Burke  expostulated.  "You're 
taking  a  lot  for  granted.  What  makes  you  so  certain  that 
neither  Beatrice  Ledyard  nor  Swarthmore  did  the  shoot- 
ing?" 

Paul  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"Because  each  of  them  suspects  the  other,  though  on  her 
part  she  wouldn't  admit  it  in  so  many  words  and  Swarth- 
more only  broke  down  and  betrayed  what  he  thought  when 
I  led  him  to  believe  that  she  had  virtually  confessed  to  the 
murder.  Then  he  skipped,  as  I  expected  him  to,  but  I 
had  already  notified  the  Federal  authorities  and  I've  no 
doubt  they'll  round  him  up  for  the  dirty  work  he  has  been 
doing  on  government  contracts." 

"Then  we're  no  nearer  the  finish  of  this  case  than  when 
we  started !"  the  Chief  lamented.  "You've  eliminated  some 
more  deadwood,  but  we  don't  know  a  thing  about  the  wo- 
man or  her  past " 

"Just  a  moment,"  Paul  interrupted  quietly.  "Do  you 
remember  the  affair  up  in  Riverboro  about  four  years  ago, 
when  the  principal  bank  there  was  wrecked  by  its  president 
and  he  was  sent  to  Atlanta?" 

"Sure,"  responded  the  Chief  promptly.  "Zenas  Prall, 
his  name  was.  The  truth  came  out  just  before  the  war 
started  and  he  beat  it,  but  they  caught  him  in  New  York 
trying  to  book  passage  for  some  non-extradition  port.  But 
what  has  he  got  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"If  they  had  an  alarm  out  for  him,  his  description  may 
be  on  file  in  the  records  here,"  Paul  remarked,  ignoring 
the  question.  "Ask  one  of  the  boys  to  look  it  up,  will  you, 
Chief?" 


194  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

His  superior  complied  and  when  the  clerk  had  departed 
upon  his  errand,  returned  to  the  attack. 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  anyway  ?  Where  does  he  come 
in  on  the  Hartshorne  affair  ?" 

"I  don't  know  that  he  does,"  Paul  admitted  frankly. 
"It's  just  a  chance  shot,  but  I  mean  to  satisfy  myself  about 
it.  He  has  just  been  let  out  on  suspended  sentence,  you 
know,  and  I've  got  a  hunch  that  the  news  wasn't  pleasing 
to  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  If  I  can  discover  some  link  which  con- 
nects them  in  the  past  it  may  open  up  a  new  line  of  investi- 
gation." 

The  clerk  reappeared  and  laid  a  communication,  tele- 
graphic in  its  brevity,  before  the  Chief. 

"There  you  are."  The  latter  glanced  over  the  document 
and  handed  it  to  his  subordinate. 

"'Age,  fifty-four,'"  Paul  read.  "Height,  five  feet,  ten. 
Weight,  one  hundred  and  eighty.  Light  blue  eyes,  slightly 
near-sighted,  no  glasses.  Smooth  face,  thick  gray  hair. 
Quiet,  conservative  dresser — '  Well,  Chief,  I  guess  that's 
all  I  need.  I'm  leaving  town  for  a  few  days ;  don't  know 
how  long  I  shall  be  away,  but  I'll  keep  in  touch  with  you. 
Anyway,  I'll  look  in  on  you  again  before  I  go." 

With  this  Chief  Burke  was  reluctantly  forced  to  be  con- 
tent and  Paul  took  his  departure. 

The  description  of  the  absconding  banker  remained  in 
his  thoughts.  Incongruously  enough,  it  merged  with  an- 
other which  he  had  heard  on  the  previous  day.  There  were 
many  points  at  variance,  but  corroding  disgrace  and  four 
years'  imprisonment  might  well  account  for  the  change. 

Could  it  have  been  Zenas  Prall  whom  Rose  Adare  had 
seen  at  the  funeral,  tottering  down  the  aisle  of  the  church  to 
lay  his  hand  upon  the  casket  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne? 


Chapter  XVII. 
THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW. 

PAUL'S  proposed  departure  from  town,  however,  was 
temporarily  delayed  by  a  message  which  he  found 
pinned  to  the  table  cover  in  his  sitting  room  when  he 
returned  to  pack. 

It  was  written  laboriously  on  a  bit  of  brown  wrapping 
paper  and  was  evidently  the  handwork  of  Mrs.  Swensen, 
who  appeared  intermittently  to  clean  his  modest  apartments. 

"Mr.  Harvey,  sombady  name  glob  call  up  on  fone  five 
time,  he  say  got  girl  can't  hold  ware  in  davil  you  was 
he  say  come." 

Even  as  he  read  it  admiringly  the  telephone  rang  once 
more  and  the  excited  voice  of  Mr.  Glaub  came  to  him. 

"Thank  Gawd  it's  you!  That  square-head  you've  got  is 
the  limit.  Say,  I  gotta  squab  here  with  hands  like  a  kitchen 
mechanic  who  calls  herself  'Sada  Mula'  an'  wants  the  job! 
Paradise  hat,  white  fox,  mustard-yeller  suit  an'  white  spats. 
Seems  kinder  tongue-tied  an'  scared  but  she's  puttin'  a  bold 
face  on  it.  Thought  I  couldn't  hold  her,  but  I  got  her  re- 
hearsin'  and  practising  faintin'  spells  now  an'  if  you  can 
get  here  before  she  breaks  her  neck  you  may  get  some  dope 
out  of  her." 

Paul  sped  down  to  the  office  of  his  friend  and  found  it 
basking  in  blissful  solitude  after  the  influx  of  the  morning. 
A  tow-headed  office  boy  with  an  expression  of  utter  ex- 
haustion on  his  relaxed  face  dozed  in  a  corner.  From  be- 

'9$ 


196  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

hind  the  door  of  the  inner  sanctum  came  a  dull,  crashing 
thud  and  an  involuntary  exclamation. 

"Ow!" 

"That's  the  stuff !  You'll  get  over  great!"  The  wearied 
but  professionally  enthusiastic  tones  of  Mr.  Glaub  floated 
out  upon  the  air.  "Only  you  gotta  remember  that  studio 
sets  is  built  sort  of  flimsy  an'  if  you  come  down  like  a  ton 
of  coal  you're  liable  to  bring  the  whole  scene  down  with 
you !  Try  it  again  an'  look  out  for  the  water  cooler." 

Paul  walked  over  to  the  door  and  knocked  briskly. 

"Hello!"  There  was  a  world  of  relief  in  Mr.  Glaub's 
voice.  "Come  in !  I  want  you  to  shake  hands  with  my  new 
screen  star,  Miss  Sada  Mula." 

But  Paul  had  no  opportunity,  for  the  lady  gave  him  one 
startled  glance  and  burst  into  violent  tears. 

"Come  now,  Sadie,"  he  said  not  unkindly,  when  the  storm 
had  subsided  to  a  thin,  gulping  wail.  "Crying  won't  get 
you  out  of  this,  you  know.  What  did  you  run  away  for?" 

"F — for  this !"  The  erstwhile  kitchen  maid  waved  a  hand 
vaguely  about  the  office  and  put  it  once  more  to  her  eyes. 
"I  w-wanted  to  g-go  in  the  m-movies." 

"Your  aunt  is  deeply  grieved  and  anxious,"  the  detective 
went  on  gravely.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  her?" 

"Sh-she'd  have  s-stopped  me,  and  my  uncle  would  have 
m-made  me  go  to  work  in  a  lunch-room !"  Sadie  came  out 
cautiously  from  behind  her  screening  hands  and  felt  for  her 
handkerchief.  Her  lips  were  sullen  and  she  eyed  him  half- 
defiantly.  "I  ain't  going  back !" 

"No,  Sadie,  you  are  not,"  he  agreed.  "You  are  coming 
down  to  Headquarters  with  me  and  tell  the  Chief  of  Police 
how  much  money  you  stole  from  Mrs.  Hartshorne." 

The  girl's  new-found  assurance  crumpled  and  a  fresh 
outburst  of  tears  came. 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW  197 

"I  don't  c-care!  She's  dead  and  it  don't  matter,  and  I 
had  to  have  nice  things  to  be  a  picture  actress !"  she  sobbed. 
"It  was  my  last  chance  to  get  away  from  pots  and  pans, 
and  I  don't  care  what  you  do  to  me !  I  just  couldn't  stand 
it!" 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  Paul  urged  sympathetically,  with  a 
cautioning  glance  at  Mr.  Glaub's  excited  face.  "Did  you 
take  the  money  all  at  the  same  time  or  separately?" 

"Little  by  little,"  responded  Sadie.  "I — I  put  it  back 
once  but  then  I  went  and  got  it  again ;  she  had  so  much, 
and  I  didn't  have  any,  it  wasn't  fair !  I  never  had  anything, 
no  pretty  clothes  nor  outings,  nor  a  feller,  like  other  girls ; 
only  dish-water  and  cook's  scoldin's  and  my  uncle's  layin' 
down  the  law !  Everybody  in  the  movies  seemed  to  be  hav- 
ing a  perfectly  elegant  time,  and  I  knew  I  could  do  as  good 
if  I  only  had  the  clothes  to  get  me  a  job !  Mrs.  Hartshorne, 
she  gave  Matilde  some  grand  things  every  once  in  a  while 
that  she  was  through  with,  but  Matilde  wouldn't  let  me  have 
them.  She  didn't  want  them  herself — she  was  always  mad 
when  Mrs.  Hartshorne  gave  them  to  her — and  burned  them 
in  the  stove.  I  wouldn't  have  touched  the  money  if  I'd 
known  poor  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  goin'  to  die  so  soon!  It 
seemed  awful  mean,  like  I'd  hurt  her  myself,  and  I  was 
so  ashamed  I  could  have  died,  too.  But  then  I  thought  she 
couldn't  care,  now,  and  I  was  bound  to  have  my  chance !" 

"When  did  you  first  learn  about  the  money  being  hidden 
about  the  house  ?"  Paul  asked. 

"Oh,  a  long  time  ago;  a  couple  of  months,  maybe." 
Sadie  dried  her  eyes  and  sniffed.  "Jenny  comes  down  from 
the  parlor  one  day  scared  to  death  and  said  she'd  found  a 
hundred-dollar  bill  in  a  little  box  on  the  mantel,  and  that 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  said  it  was  all  right,  that  she  had 
meant  to  leave  it  there.  After  that  Jenny  found  a  lot  more, 


198  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

scattered-like,  and  her  talk  about  how  easy  it  would  be 
for  some  burglar  or  somebody  to  walk  off  with  it  kind  of 
put  an  idea  into  my  head.    If  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had  so  much 
money  she  didn't  know  where  she  put  it  all,   why,   she 
wouldn't  miss  some  of  it  if  it  was  taken.     So  I  thought  it 
wouldn't  be  any  very  great  harm.    At  first  I  tried  not  to 
think  about  it  at  all,  but  every  time  I  went  to  the  movies 
it  come  back  to  me  till  I  was  nearly  crazy.     At  last  one 
day  about  a  month  ago  Jenny  was  cleaning  at  the  top  of 
the  house,  cook  was  down  with  a  toothache  and  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne and  Matilde  was  both  out.     I  sneaked  up  to  the 
parlor  and  sure  enough  I  found  two  one-hundred  dollar 
bills  in  a  vase!    I  took  out  one  of  them  and  left  the  other, 
and  hid  what  I'd  taken  under  the  rug  in  our  basement  sit- 
ting-room.   I  waited  two  or  three  days  but  nothin'  happened, 
so  one  afternoon  when  everybody  was  out  again  I  came 
up  and  took  two  hundred  more  from  between  the  covers  of 
some  books  in  the  bookcase." 

"Is  that  all?"  Paul  eyed  her  sternly. 
"N-no,"  she  faltered.  "I  got  scared  and  put  the  three 
hundred  back,  but  it  didn't  seem  to  make  any  difference 
to  anybody  except  me  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  take  it 
again  as  quick  as  I  could.  It  seemed  as  if  there  never 
would  come  a  time  when  I  could  get  into  that  parlor  once 
more  without  somebody  snoopin'  'round,  but  last  Wednes- 
day when  I  saw  that  face  at  the  window " 

"What  face?"  Paul  interrupted. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  tell  you  about  that!"  she  paused.  "I  was 
goin'  to  when  you  talked  to  me  before,  but  that  fat  man 
who  was  with  you  yelled  at  me  so,  I  didn't  dare.  It  was 
after  dark,  but  the  gentleman  that  was  having  tea  with 
Mrs.  Hartshorne  hadn't  gone  yet  when  I  got  through  pre- 
parin*  what  I  had  to  for  dinner  and  went  into  the  basement 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW  199 

sittin'  room.  I  was  starin'  out  the  window  watchin'  the 
lights  spring  up  in  the  houses  across  the  street  and  won- 
derin'  if  I  could  get  out  that  night  to  the  movies  when  I 
saw  a  dark  figure,  like  a  shadow  creepin'  around  the  area- 
way  and  a  face  peeked  in  at  the  window  right  close  to  mine 
with  only  the  glass  between!" 

"What  was  it  like?" 

"Like  a  corpse!"  Sadie  responded,  with  gruesome  relish. 
"All  but  the  eyes  that  was  awful  bright  and  blinkin'.  He 
looked  to  be  very  old,  for  his  face  was  all  wrinkled  and  a 
lock  of  white  hair  showed  under  the  hat  he  wore  pulled  low. 
He  was  terrible  thin,  too,  and  trembly,  and  I  guess  I  s'prised 
him  as  much  as  he  did  me,  for  he  ducked  and  jumped  back 
and  in  a  minute  more  he  was  gone.  As  for  me  I  let  a 
screech  out  of  me  that  brought  the  cook  in,  but  she  wouldn't 
believe  there'd  been  anybody  there,  and  gave  me  a  scoldin'. 

"Late  that  night,  after  the  other  gentleman  who  had 
come  for  dinner  was  gone  and  the  lights  was  all  out  I  tip- 
toed down  with  a  candle  end  and  took  the  three  hundred 
back  from  where  I'd  put  it  and  another  bill  that  I  didn't 
dare  stop  to  look  at  from  a  vase  on  the  console  table.  I 
ran  back  up  to  the  room  I  shared  with  the  cook  and  stuffed 
the  money  under  the  mattress  of  my  cot,  thinkin'  that  if 
it  should  happen  to  be  missed  in  the  morning  I  could  tell 
about  the  burglar  I'd  seen  hangin'  'round  and  cook  would 
have  to  back  me  up. 

"But  nobody  said  a  word,  and  it  bein'  my  afternoon  off 
I  took  the  money  with  me  to  my  aunt's.  I  didn't  dare  look 
at  it  until  I  made  an  excuse  for  her  to  go  across  the  hall 
to  a  neighbor's  to  borrow  a  long  needle  for  a  hat  I  was 
trimmin'  and  when  I  got  her  safe  out  of  the  way  and  saw 
the  last  bill  I  had  taken  I  nearly  fainted,  for  it  was  a  five- 
hundred-dollar  one!  I  sewed  all  the  money  up  quick  in 


200  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

my  pillow  but  I  worried  something  awful  when  I  went  back 
to  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  for  fear  my  aunt  would  find  it. 

"Then  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  found  murdered  the  next 
day  and  I  felt  as  if  I'd  brought  ill-luck  on  her  by  stealin' 
from  her,  but  it  was  too  late  to  put  the  money  back  a  second 
time.  And  now  I'd  lost  my  place  uncle  would  make  me  go 
in  that  dirty  old  lunch-room  his  friend  runs  and  that  would 
be  the  end  of  everything  if  I  didn't  start  out  for  myself. 
And  now  if  only  you  hadn't  found  me,  I'd  have  been  a 
movie  star!" 

Mr.  Glaub  choked  irrepressibly  and  Paul  demanded : 
"What  have  you  done  with  all  the  money  ?" 
"I — I  spent  a  lot,"  Sadie  confessed  in  a  very  small  voice. 
"Sixty  for  this  hat,  and  eighty-five  for  the  fur,  and  fifty 
for  the  suit  and  about  forty  more  for  shoes  and  a  suit- 
case and  things  to  put  in  it.    Then  I've  been  livin'  'round 
in  small  hotels,  a  different  one  every  night  since  Saturday. 
I  haven't  touched  the  five  hundred  yet ;  I  was  afraid  to  try 
to  get  it  changed  for  fear  people  would  ask  me  questions. 
Here's  all  I've  got  left." 

She  opened  her  purse  and  poured  out  upon  Mr.  Glaub's 
desk  several  crumpled  bills  and  a  handful  of  silver.  Then 
from  her  waist  she  produced  a  crisp  yellow-back  and  added 
it  to  the  rest.  As  she  sat  gazing  at  it  her  lips  trembled  and 
once  more  the  tears  overflowed. 

"Just  when  I  had  my  chance !"  she  sobbed.  "It  ain't  fair ! 
I  never  had  anything!" 

The  midnight  train  for  Riverboro  carried  among  its  other 
passengers  a  certain  slightly  lame  young  man  who  occupied 
a  compartment  and  fell  quite  easily  into  conversation  with 
the  conductor  when  that  worthy  appeared  for  his  ticket. 
The  young  man,  it  appeared,  had  some  capital  of  his  own 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW  201 

and  was  thinking  of  establishing  an  amusement  park  in 
Riverboro,  whereupon  the  conductor  waxed  enthusiastic, 
for  the  bustling  little  city  at  the  terminus  of  the  branch 
road  proved  to  be  his  home  town. 

"Great  place,  sir.  More  money  for  its  size,  than  any 
other  city  in  the  state  1"  he  announced  proudly.  "Ought 
to  be  fine  for  your  proposition  on  account  of  its  being  such 
a  manufacturing  center,  and  you  won't  find  any  competi- 
tion but  the  fair  grounds  and  a  picnic  grove.  We've  got 
four  hotels,  three  banks,  nine  churches  and  two  big  depart- 
ment stores,  to%say  nothing  of  the  library  and  the  town 
hall.  Oh,  you'll  find  us  quite  up  to  date!  The  best  ain't 
none  too  good  for  us !" 

"Three  banks?"  repeated  the  young  man  meditatively. 
"I'll  have  to  do  business  with  a  bank  right  away." 

"Yes,  sir!  First  and  Second  National,  and  the  Muni- 
cipal; that  used  to  be  the  Riverboro,  but  it  failed  a  few 
years  ago,  wrecked  by  the  president,  Zenas  Prall."  The 
conductor  paused  to  accept  a  cigar.  "Thank  you,  sir,  don't 
mind  if  I  do !  Prall,  he  went  to  jail,  but  they  say  he's  out 
now.  Beats  all  how  those  slippery  fellers  can  get  out  of 
paying  for  what  they  do !" 

"Has  he  shown  up  again  in  Riverboro?"  the  young 
man  asked  carelessly. 

"By  Godfrey,  no!"  The  conductor  ejaculated.  "He 
made  away  with  the  savings  of  all  the  small  shopkeepers, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  foreign  mill  hands  and  factory 
workers.  Riverboro's  a  law-biding  community,  but  old 
Zenas'  life  wouldn't  be  worth  a  plugged  nickel  if  he  ever 
came  back.  The  bank's  all  right  now,  though,  under  its 
new  name  and  all  reorganized ;  Edmund  Coe  is  the  only 
one  left  that  used  to  be  on  the  old  Board,  and  his  honesty 
never  was  questioned;  he's  the  president  now.  You  won't 


202  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

go  wrong  doing  business  with  them,  and  if  you're  a  stranger 
in  town  with  no  lodgings  engaged  I'd  advise  you  to  try  the 
Norton  House;  it's  got  a  grill  room  and  a  Turkish  bath 
and  all  the  latest  improvements.  Yes,  sir,  there's  nothing 
slow  about  Riverboro!" 

The  next  morning  as  he  deposited  his  bags  in  a  jitney 
and  climbed  in  after  them  for  the  ride  to  the  Norton  House, 
Paul  concluded  that  the  conductor  had  spoken  truly. 
There  seemed  to  be  nothing  slow  about  the  cheery,  pros- 
perous-looking town.  Embryo  sky-scrapers  were  spring- 
ing up  on  every  hand,  traffic  policemen  in  much  dignity 
stood  at  the  intersections  of  car  lines  and  the  number  of 
jewelery  shops,  motor-car  agencies  and  sporting  goods  dis- 
plays attested  to  the  wealth  of  the  community. 

At  ten  o'clock  Paul  left  the  rather  blatant  gorgeousness 
of  the  Norton  House  and  presented  himself  at  the  Muni- 
his  request  with  the  credentials  with  which  he  had  supplied 
cipal  Bank,  where  he  asked  to  see  the  president,  fortifying 
himself  for  the  emergency. 

President  Coe  proved  to  be  a  cadaverous  individual, 
with  a  hook  nose  and  a  long  goatee  which  persisted  in  in- 
truding itself  into  the  conversation.  But  he  took  kindly  to 
the  young  stranger's  enterprise,  particularly  when  it  de- 
veloped that  he  required  no  additional  financial  backing  to 
what  he  already  possessed.  The  interview  was  an  eminently 
satisfactory  one  and  Paul  remarked  in  conclusion: 

"You've  made  an  enviable  reputation,  Mr.  Coe,  by  estab- 
lishing this  institution  so  solidly  on  the  ruins  of  the  old 
Riverboro.  PralPs  speculations  and  exposure  must  have 
been  a  frightful  blow,  not  only  to  the  depositors  but  to  his 
associates  and  family." 

President  Coe's  cordiality  congealed,  and  his  goatee  wag- 
glad  a  protest  at  the  tactless  reference. 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW  203 

"He  had  no  family,  fortunately,  except  his  housekeeper 
Mrs.  MacNab,"  he  replied  stiffly.  "The  depositors  are  being 
reimbursed  and  his  associates  were  too  firmly  entrenched 
in  the  public  confidence  to  be  affected  by  his  disgrace.  The 
Municipal,  sir,  has  no  connection  whatever  with  the  defunct 
Riverboro." 

Out  on  the  shady  main  street  once  more  Paul  made  his 
way  to  a  corner  drug-store  and  much  to  the  disgust  of  a 
supercilious  clerk  he  confined  his  attention  to  the  town 
directory.  There  were  three  MacNabs :  David  J.,  a  painter 
and  glazier,  Wallace  P.,  electrical  supplies,  and  Mrs.  Mar- 
garet A.,  the  latter  of  Number  Seven  Hillside  Avenue. 

The  morning  was  cool  and  pleasant,  the  wind  from  the 
river  bearing  only  the  merest  suggestion  of  smoke  from  the 
towering  factory  chimneys  which  lined  the  bank,  and  Paul 
was  tempted  to  walk  to  his  destination.  However,  judicious 
inquiry  revealed  that  Hillside  Avenue  was  far  out  in  the 
suburbs  and  he  relinquished  his  impulse  in  favor  of  a 
trolley  car.  Its  way  led  through  the  middle-class  residen- 
tial district  but  down  broad  intersecting  avenues  Paul  caught 
glimpses  of  pretentious  mansions  and  as  they  reached  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  imposing  estates  loomed  up.  He 
concluded  that  there  must  have  been  wide  scope  in  the  city's 
prosperity  for  Zenas  Prall's  activities. 

The  street  became  a  road  and  started  to  mount  an  incline 
when  at  the  next  corner  Paul  descried  a  sign  labelled  'Hill- 
side Avenue'  and  descended.  A  double  row  of  neat  modern 
frame  cottages,  each  in  its  well-kept  garden,  met  his  gaze 
and  he  walked  down  the  pretty  little  lane  to  number  seven. 
It  was  smaller  than  the  rest  but  glistening  with  new  paint 
and  immaculately  polished  windows  and  an  inconspicious 
sign  beside  the  door  announced  that  boarders  would  be 
acceptable. 


204  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

Paul  opened  the  gate  and  ascending  the  steps  lifted  the 
knocker. 

A  trim,  middle-aged  woman  with  graying  hair  drawn  back 
in  a  severe  knot  and  an  austere,  thin-lipped  smile  opened 
the  door.  She  gave  him  a  swiftly  appraising  glance  and 
shook  her  head. 

"I'm  not  buying  anything  to-day — "  she  began  firmly, 
but  Paul  interrupted  her. 

"And  I  am  not  selling  anything!"  he  laughed.  "I  am 
looking  for  a  room  and  board.  Can  you  accommodate 
me?" 

"Oh,  excuse  me!  I've  been  so  pestered  with  salesmen 
and  canvassers,"  she  paused.  "I've  got  a  school  teacher 
and  two  young  men  here  now,  but  I  guess  I  could  take  you 
if  you  don't  mind  a  small  room.  About  how  much  did 
you  want  to  pay?" 

"Anything  in  reason,"  Paul  responded  ingratiatingly. 
"I'm  at  the  Norton  House  now ;  but  it's  too  noisy  and  ex- 
pensive. As  I  expect  business  will  keep  me  here  for  some 
little  time  I  want  to  find  more  homelike  surroundings." 

"You're  a  stranger  in  town?" 

Paul  understood  the  implied  suggestion  and  nodded. 

"Yes,  but  I  can  give  you  any  references  you  desire.  Presi- 
dent Coe,  of  the  Municipal  Bank,  will  vouch  for  me " 

Mrs.  MacNab  drew  herself  up. 

"You  were  never  recommended  here  by  Mr.  Coe,"  she 
observed  shortly. 

"No,"  he  smiled  again.  "I  was  taking  a  walk  and  stopped 
to  admire  your  garden  when  I  saw  the  sign." 

"Well,"  Mrs.  MacNab  stepped  aside,  plainly  impressed  de- 
spite her  evident  disapproval  of  President  Coe,  by  this  non- 
chalant use  of  his  name.  "You  won't  find  it  much  after  the 
Norton  House,  but  it's  clean." 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW  205 

She  showed  him  into  a  pleasant  room,  small  but  spot- 
lessly neat  and  cheery  and  their  bargain  was  soon  con- 
cluded. 

"You  have  some  wonderful  old  furniture,  Mrs.  MacNab," 
Paul  remarked  as  they  descended  the  stairs. 

"I've  a  few  good  pieces,"  she  admitted.  "I  was  house- 
keeper once  in  a — a  fine  old  family  and  when  everything 
was  sold  I  managed  to  save  these." 

"Indeed?"  he  said  quickly.  "Who  were  they?  I  know 
most  of  the  leading  families  around  here  in  a  business  way." 

Mrs.  MacNab  eyed  him  for  a  moment  and  then  tilted  her 
chin  as  if  defiant  of  her  momentary  hesitation. 

"The  name  was  Trail',"  she  said.  "But  you'll  not  find 
any  of  them  now.  The  last  one  of  the  family  has  gone 
away." 

Paul  returned  to  the  hotel  for  his  bags  with  the  settled 
conviction  that  he  had  made  decided  headway;  but  a  dis- 
quieting doubt  remained.  Could  he  persuade  this  dour,  loyal 
creature  to  discuss  her  former  employer — particularly  if,  as 
he  suspected,  there  had  been  a  woman  in  the  case  ? 


Chapter  XVIII. 
IN  THE  NIGHT. 

"TT'S  perfectly  thrilling  to  have  somebody  from  a  big 
city  like  Eastopolis  to  talk  to!"     The  fluffy-haired 

A  little  school  teacher,  Paul's  fellow  boarder  at  Mrs. 
MacNab's,  gazed  down  at  him  from  the  porch  hammock 
with  ingenuous  delight. 

He  was  seated  on  the  steps  almost  at  her  feet,  his  back 
against  a  tube  of  blossoming  azalea,  watching  the  twilight 
deepen  down  the  deserted  lane.  From  the  rear  came  the 
clatter  of  dishes,  as  Mrs.  MacNab  cleared  away  the  supper, 
and  from  above  a  ukelele  throbbed  in  the  persistent  hands 
of  young  Mr.  Jenks.  The  remaining  guest,  Mr.  Dahlm,  had 
long  since  disappeared  through  the  gate  in  impressive  array 
and  with  a  large  white  box  tied  with  gilt  cord  beneath  his 


arm. 


•**•  i-       i- 

"Nothing  ever  happens  around  here,"  Miss  Busby  chat- 
tered on.  "I've  taught  school  in  Riverboro  going  on  six 
years  and  you  can't  think  how  monotonous  it  gets !  There 
is  always  something  to  make  life  interesting  in  the  sort  of 
place  you  come  from,  even  if  it's  a  crime  or  a  scandal  but 
here  we  never  even  have  a  big  enough  fire  to  stir  up  excite- 
ment." 

"Riverboro  had  its  share  of  crime  and  scandal,  too,  a  tew 
years  ago,  didn't  it?"  Paul  asked  carelessly.     "I  was  talk 
ing  to  President  Coe  of  the  Municipal  Bank  to-day,  and  he 
told  me  what  had  happened  to  its  predecessor." 

206 


IN  THE  NIGHT  307 

"Oh,  hush!"  Miss  Busby  glanced  nervously  over  her 
shoulder.  "We — we  never  speak  of  that  here.  Mrs.  Mac- 
Nab  ordered  out  the  last  young  man  who  had  your  room 
because  he  said  Zenas  Prall  ought  to  have  been  tarred  and 
feathered.  You  see,  Mrs.  MacNab  used  to  be  Mr.  Frail's 
housekeeper,  and  her  mother  before  her,  and  when  he  took 
all  that  money  and  got  found  out  she  tried  so  fiercely  to 
defend  him  that  some  folks  thought  she  stood  in  with  him. 
I  guess  she  was  watched  very  closely  for  a  year  or  two 
after,  to  see  if  she  showed  any  sign  of  prosperity  that 
couldn't  be  accounted  for,  but  she  is  as  honest  as  the  day." 

"I  thought  it  was  understood  that  Prall  lost  all  the  money 
he  embezzled  in  speculation,"  remarked  Paul. 

"Well,  you  hear  so  many  rumors,"  Miss  Busby  responded- 
evasively.  "I  was  boarding  at  the  other  end  of  town  when 
it  all  happened,  and  didn't  even  know  Mrs.  MacNab,  so  I 
wasn't  particularly  interested." 

"But  wasn't  there  some  scandal,  too,  of  another  sort?" 
Paul  insisted.  "It  seems  to  me  I  remember  that  some 
woman  was  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  case." 

He  turned  slightly  and  glanced  up,  but  it  was  too  dark 
for  him  to  see  her  face. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  she  disclaimed.  "At  least  I  never 
heard  of  any.  Mr.  Prall  was  a  confirmed  old  bachelor, 
deacon  in  the  church  and  head  of  the  Civic  Improvement 
Society;  he  was  just  money  mad,  I  guess.  Oh!  There's 
that  man  again!" 

A  slouching  figure  had  emerged  from  the  deeper  shadows 
at  the  end  of  the  lane  and  strolled  slowly  toward  them  with 
shoulders  hunched  and  hands  deep  in  pockets. 

"Who  is  he?"  Paul  lowered  his  voice.  "What  is  he 
doing  here  ?" 

"I  don't  know  1"  returned  Miss  Busby  in  a  whisper.  "He's 


208  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

been  hanging  about  every  night  for  over  a  week  now ;  I 
met  him  right  by  the  gate  in  the  dark  when  I  was  coming 
home  from  church  and  he  looked  at  me  so  intently  that  he 
frightened  me.  He  is  a  foreigner,  I  think ;  Hungarian  or 
Italian." 

The  man  had  drawn  nearer  and  they  sat  in  silence  until 
he  had  passed  with  a  keen,  furtive  glance  at  the  porch.  He 
slouched  on  into  the  shadows  once  more. 

"He  might  be  a  mill  or  factory  hand,  to  judge  by  his 
appearance,"  Paul  suggested.  "They  employ  a  lot  of 
foreign  labor,  do  they  not?" 

"Yes."  Miss  Busby  shivered  a  little.  "If  he  is,  though, 
I  can't  see  what  should  bring  him  away  out  here,  nor  why 
he  should  loiter  about  until  far  into  the  night.  I  saw  him 
long  past  midnight  when  I  got  up  to  close  my  window. 
Sometimes  another  man  meets  him  at  the  head  of  the  lane 
and  they  walk  together ;  they  don't  seem  to  know  anyone 
in  any  of  the  houses  along  here,  or  try  to  speak,  but  they 
just  watch  and  watch  until  it  is  positively  uncanny!  It 
started  while  Mrs.  MacNab  was  away,  and  when  she  re- 
turned and  I  told  her  she  wouldn't  believe  the  man  was 
really  hanging  about  until  she  saw  him  herself.  Then  she 
had  nothing  to  say." 

"So  Mrs.  MacNab  deserted  you?"  Paul  asked  lightly. 

"For  a  few  days.  She  went  away  on  a  visit  more  than 
a  week  ago  and  came  home  last  Thursday. — Here  comes 
that  man  again !  What  do  you  suppose  he  wants  ?" 

This  time  the  loiterer  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
lane  and  shambled  by  without  quickening  or  retarding  his 
gait. 

"I  feel  as  if  he  were  watching  us !"  Miss  Busby  shivered 
again  nervously  and  rose.  "I  must  go  in ;  I  have  some  tire- 
some examination  papers  to  correct.  Goodness!  I  shall 


IN  THE  NIGHT  209 

be  as  glad  as  the  children  when  this  term  is  over!  Good 
night,  Mr.  Harvey;  don't  smoke  yourself  to  death!" 

Left  alone,  Paul  ground  out  his  cigarette  stub  in  the 
tub  of  azalea  and  sauntered  down  to  the  gate  where  he 
stood  in  the  shadow  of  a  budding  lilac  bush.  The  cottages 
on  the  other  side  of  the  lane  glowed  cheerily  with  lights, 
all  save  the  one  directly  opposite,  which  loomed  blackly 
against  the  lesser  darkness  of  the  sky.  Paul  recalled  vaguely 
that  he  had  observed  a  sign  of  some  sort  amid  the  neglected 
tangle  of  the  garden  when  he  had  returned  with  his  bags 
that  afternoon. 

He  waited  quietly  until  shufflng  footsteps  approached 
once  more  and  carefully  calculating  his  time,  he  stepped 
forward  suddenly  from  the  shadows  and  flung  open  the 
gate,  confronting  the  man.  The  latter  leaped  nimbly  aside 
with  an  oath,  his  hand  slipping  suggestively  to  his  pocket. 

"Have  you  a  match  about  you?"  Paul  asked  calmly,  dis- 
playing the  unlighted  cigarette  between  his  fingers. 

The  man  drew  a  quick  breath. 

"Si,  signor!"  He  spoke  in  rough,  surly  tones,  but  pro- 
duced a  match  with  alacrity,  and  striking  it  on  the  fence, 
held  it  close  to  Paul's  face,  peering  at  him  with  sunken, 
eager  eyes. 

By  its  light  his  own  countenance  was  revealed,  swarthy, 
gaunt  and  almost  wolfish  in  its  fierce  intensity.  For  a 
moment  he  gazed  and  then  before  the  match  flickered  out, 
Paul  saw  the  tense,  menacing  light  fade  in  his  eyes  and  a  look 
of  sullen  disappointment  take  its  place. 

He  gruffly  refused  the  cigarette  which  the  detective  of- 
fered and  was  turning  away  with  a  muttered  "good-night" 
when  Paul  stopped  him. 

"You  are  not  a  neighbor,  are  you?  You're  waiting  for 
someone  ?" 


2io  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

The  Italian  wheeled  again  quickly,  but  for  a  moment 
made  no  reply.  Then,  with  a  hoarse  chuckle  which  seemed 
half  a  snarl,  he  responded: 

"Si!  I  wait-a  for  a  frien'!  Dis  street-a  free,  no?  I 
wait-a  till  he  come." 

Giving  his  interrogator  no  further  opportunity  for  speech 
he  shuffled  away  into  the  darkness  and  Paul  with  a  shrug 
turned  and  entered  the  house.  Whatever  the  man's  design, 
his  tone  boded  ill  for  the  "friend"  of  whom  he  had  spoken. 
Paul  recalled  the  conductor's  observation  that  the  life  of 
Zenas  Prall  would  not  be  worth  "a  plugged  nickel"  if  he 
dared  return  to  the  scene  of  his  crime.  Was  it  for  him  the 
Italian  waited? 

Going  to  his  room  Paul  busied  himself  with  unpacking 
and  arranging  the  contents  of  his  bags  and  was  unrolling  a 
pair  of  shoes  from  the  newspaper  in  which  he  had  wrapped 
them  when  there  came  a  tap  upon  his  door,  accompanied 
by  the  tinkle  of  ice  in  a  pitcher.  Mrs.  MacNab's  approach- 
ing footsteps  had  been  noiseless  even  to  his  trained  ear. 

"Come  in!"  he  called. 

"I've  brought  you  some  water,  sir,  and  a  latch-key,"  Mrs. 
MacNab  announced.  "The  bath  is  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 
and  if  you  want  to  be  called  in  the  morning ?" 

"Thanks,  but  I'm  an  irregular  riser,"  Paul  smiled.  "The 
people  I've  come  to  this  town  to  see  cannot  be  approached 
before  noon  and  I  may  sleep  late.  Don't  bother  with  break- 
fast for  me,  please,  Mrs.  MacNab." 

But  the  woman  seemed  scarcely  to  have  heard.  She  was 
gazing  at  the  Eastopolis  newspaper  which  had  dropped  at 
his  feet.  Every  vestige  of  color  and  expression  was  swept 
suddenly  from  her  face,  leaving  it  ashen  and  blank.  Paul 
followed  her  eyes  mechanically  and  all  but  started  himself, 
for  from  the  printed  page  there  smiled  up  at  him  the  deli- 


IN  THE  NIGHT  211 

cate,  spirituelle  face  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne.  It  was  the  first 
photograph  he  had  seen  of  the  murdered  woman  and  was 
evidently  a  reproduction  from  a  snap-shot  taken  as  she  de- 
scended the  steps  of  St.  George's  Church,  possibly  after  a 
wedding  or  some  special  service.  The  press  photographer 
had  caught  her  in  an  unguarded  moment  with  the  sunlight 
beaming  softly  upon  her  face  and  the  impression  was  un- 
usually clear  and  lifelike.  Above  it  was  the  caption :  "Only 
known  photograph  of  the  slain  woman." 

Mrs.  MacNab  stooped  and  picked  up  the  newspaper. 

"Is  that  the  woman  who  was  killed  in  your  town  last 
week?"  she  asked  in  a  peculiarly  repressed  tone.  "What 
was  her  name?  Hartshorne?" 

"Oh,  the  Hartshorne  case?"  Paul  responded  carelessly. 
"Yes,  I've  been  too  busy  to  read  up  much  about  it.  It  must 
have  been  a  terrible  affair,  though;  and  I  don't  think  they 
have  found  a  trace  yet  of  the  murderer." 

Mrs.  MacNab  did  not  reply  at  once.  The  paper  trembled 
slightly  in  her  hands.  As  if  to  conceal  its  agitation  she 
crossed  to  the  gas  bracket  in  the  wall  and  stood  beneath  its 
flare  with  her  back  turned  to  him. 

"So  that's  the  woman !"  she  repeated  at  length.  "I  never 
thought ." 

She  caught  herself  up  abruptly  and  Paul  asked: 

"Did  you  know  her,  Mrs.  MacNab?  You  seem  sur- 
prised  " 

The  woman  wheeled  upon  him,  the  paper  instinctively 
crushed  in  her  hands. 

"How  should  I,  Mr.  Harvey?  I've  never  been  to  Easto- 
polis!  I  read  about  the  murder,  of  course,  but  I  thought 
she'd  be  a  different  kind  of  woman ;  not  so  innocent  and 
ladylike  appearing  as  this  I  And  they've  no  idea  who  killed 
her?" 


212  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"If  they  have,  it  hasn't  been  given  out."  Paul  shrugged 
and  dismissed  the  subject.  "What  time  is  the  mail  de- 
livered, Mrs.  MacNab?" 

She  replied  mechanically,  bade  him  "good  night"  and 
departed  with  the  newspaper  still  clutched  in  her  hand,  while 
Paul  completed  his  preparations  for  the  night  and  ex- 
tinguishing the  light,  seated  himself  at  his  opened  front 
window. 

The  emotion  which  his  taciturn  hostess  had  displayed 
was  too  patent  to  be  ascribed  to  mere  morbid  curiosity,  her 
astonishment  too  marked  and  too  quickly  followed  by  ap- 
prehension to  have  been  caused  by  the  death  of  an  unknown 
woman  in  a  strange  city.  News  of  the  murder  of  a  "Mrs. 
Hartshorne"  had  not  impressed  her,  but  the  pictured  face 
of  the  victim  had  produced  a  shock  which  she  had  been  un- 
able to  conceal  effectually.  Sheer  accident  had  tended  to 
confirm  Paul's  belief  that  this  was  no  blind  trail  upon  which 
he  had  started,  but  the  way  was  dark  before  him.  A  re- 
vulsion of  feeling  came,  a  self-distrust  which  had  dogged 
him  in  more  than  one  previous  case. 

What  had  he,  after  all,  to  go  upon  in  attempting  to  con- 
nect the  liberated  embezzler  with  the  murder?  There  was 
not  one  definite  point  of  resemblance  between  the  police 
description  of  Zenas  Prall  and  the  aged  man  whom  Rose 
Adare  had  observed  at  the  funeral,  or  the  face  which  had 
stared  into  that  of  the  kitchen  maid  at  the  basement  window 
of  the  house  on  Farragut  Street.  Had  he  not  been  over 
eager  to  read  into  Mrs.  MacNab's  amazement  a  confirma- 
tion of  his  hastily  formed  theory? 

The  ukelele  had  long  since  been  silenced  and  the  boots 
of  Mr.  Dahlin  had  squeaked  their  way  to  his  room,  but 
Paul  still  sat  lost  in  reflection.  His  room  was  at  the  corner 
of  the  cottage,  with  windows  facing  front  and  at  the  side  and 


IN  THE  NIGHT  213 

from  his  point  of  vantage  he  could  see  the  empty  cottage 
across  the  way.  It  stood  out  distinctly  beneath  the  moon- 
less but  clear,  starry  sky.  As  he  watched,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  two  shadowy  figures  moved  and  merged  in  the  cavern- 
ous blackness  of  the  porch. 

He  strained  his  eyes,  but  no  further  sign  of  human  pres- 
ence resulted.  After  an  interval  he  crossed  to  the  side 
window  and  glanced  out.  The  cottage  next  door  was  dark 
and  silent,  but  from  a  window  on  the  first  floor  of  his  own 
abode  at  the  rear,  a  thin,  flickering,  yellow  gleam,  like  a 
trembling,  beckoning  finger  reached  out  across  the  patch 
of  garden. 

Even  as  his  eyes  rested  upon  it,  however,  it  was  extin- 
guished, and,  forswearing  further  idle  speculation,  Paul 
threw  himself  upon  his  bed. 

How  long  he  slept  he  did  not  know,  but  all  at  once  he 
found  himself  sitting  bolt  upright  with  every  nerve  tense 
and  vibrantly  awake.  Through  the  window  he  could  see 
that  the  stars  had  dimmed  and  a  light  breeze  heralded  the 
faint  grey  rift  in  the  eastern  sky. 

He  listened  intently,  but  for  long  minutes  no  sound  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  sleeping  house,  and  he  was  on  the  point 
of  relaxing  again  with  disgust  at  his  own  state  of  nerves 
when  a  muffled,  half -suppressed  groan  came  to  him  from 
somewhere  below. 

Springing  softly  from  the  bed  he  threw  a  bathrobe  about 
his  shoulders  and,  creeping  to  the  door,  placed  his  ear 
against  the  keyhole.  Someone  was  slowly  and  laboriously 
ascending  the  stairs;  the  stumbling,  hesitant  footsteps 
mingled  with  a  warning  creak  of  the  boards  and  a  crackling 
snap  which  told  of  sudden  strain  upon  the  flimsy  stair-rail. 

The  footsteps  passed  his  door  and  mingled  with  them  Paul 
fancied  he  detected  a  dull,  subdued,  swishing  sound  as  of 


214  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

woolen  skirts,  and  a  single  convulsive  sigh.  He  strained  his 
eye  through  the  keyhole,  but  only  blackness  met  his  eager 
gaze  as  the  footsteps  died  away  and  utter  silence  reigned. 

Half  an  hour  dragged  by  and  a  clock  somewhere  in  the 
lower  regions  of  the  house  boomed  four  heavy,  precise 
strokes  before  Paul's  vigil  was  rewarded  and  he  caught 
once  more  that  subdued  swish  against  the  stair  rail. 

This  time  he  did  not  hesitate,  but  flung  the  door  wide  and 
stepped  out  into  the  hall,  confronting  the  gaunt,  ungainly 
figure  of  Mrs.  MacNab  which,  swathed  in  a  shapeless 
wrapper,  shrank  back  against  the  wall. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"It's  just  me,  sir."  His  landlady's  voice  was  sullen  and 
resentful,  "Did  I  disturb  you?  You're  a  light  sleeper,  Mr. 
Harvey." 

"Is  anything  the  matter?"  He  ignored  her  comment. 
"I  thought  I  heard  someone  groan." 

"No  matter  except  that  I've  a  raging  toothache !"  she 
retorted  shortly.  "I  went  downstairs  awhile  back  for  some 
hot  water  and  I'm  going  again  now.  It's  enough  to  make 
a  body  groan!  If  you  hear  any  noises  it'll  only  be  me, 
Mr.  Harvey." 

Without  waiting  to  heed  his  expression  of  sympathy  she 
stalked  off  down  the  stair  and  Paul  closed  his  door.  He 
returned  to  his  bed,  but  sleep  did  not  come  to  him  again 
until  broad  day. 

When  his  fellow-lodgers  had  departed  and  a  neighboring 
school-house  bell  had  ceased  its  tolling,  he  rose  and  de- 
scended to  the  ground  floor,  pausing  for  a  moment  to  gaze 
out  the  screen  door  which  opened  upon  the  porch.  The 
cottage  across  the  way,  although  obviously  empty,  bore  no 
sinister  aspect  in  the  bright  morning  light.  It  was  in  per- 
fect repair,  painted  a  cheerful  yellow,  and  the  garden  was 


IN  THE  NIGHT  215 

gay  with  early  spring  flowers.  The  shadowy  figures  which 
had  loitered  about  it  in  the  darkness  seemed  incongruous, 
beyond  the  bounds  of  reality.  With  a  shrug  Paul  saun- 
tered into  the  dining-room. 

His  place  was  laid  at  the  table,  with  a  bowl  of  fruit  and 
pat  of  butter  before  it,  but  no  one  was  visible.  Moving 
to  the  kitchen  door,  he  swung  it  open. 

Mrs.  MacNab  was  standing  by  the  table,  upon  which 
stood  a  large  market  basket.  She  was  packing  it  as  if  for 
a  picnic  with  a  varied  assortment  of  edibles,  which  were 
grouped  before  her.  Paul  noted  a  cold  chicken,  half  a  ham, 
pies,  cakes,  a  jar  of  preserves  and  at  one  side  a  loosely  tied 
bundle  of  candles  and  box  of  matches. 

The  woman  glanced  up,  met  his  curiously  inquiring  gaze 
and  stiffened. 

"Good  morning,  Mr  Harvey,  I  didn't  hear  you.  I'll 
bring  your  breakfast  right  away  if  you  will  sit  down  at  the 
table." 

"There  is  no  hurry,"  he  protested  mildly.  "Are  you 
going  on  an  outing?" 

"Just  to  a  poor  family  a  little  way  out  in  the  country." 
There  was  guarded  impatience  in  her  tone  and  she  added 
with  patent  eagerness.  "You  will  want  to  get  on  down 
town,  won't  you?  Your  coffee's  on  the  stove  and  I'll  fry 
an  egg  in  two  minutes.  You'll  find  the  morning  paper  on 
the  hall  table." 

Paul  accepted  his  virtual  dismissal  and  withdrew.  The 
Riverboro  paper  contained  two  Eastopolis  paragraphs  which 
caused  him  to  forget  for  the  moment  the  scene  in  the  kitchen. 
The  first  was  a  brief  one  relative  to  the  Hartshorne  case, 
stating  in  effect  that  new  and  startling  evidence  was  in  the 
possession  of  the  authorities  and  that  sensational  disclosures 
might  be  expected  at  any  time.  The  second  was  in  marked 


216  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

contrast  to  the  ambiguity  of  the  first;  it  presented  a  de- 
tailed account  of  the  arrest  of  Cornelius  Swarthmore  in  a 
neighboring  seaport  on  a  grave  Federal  charge. 

Mrs.  MacNab  brought  his  simple  meal  and  while  he  con- 
sumed it  hovered  anxiously  about  in  an  evident  desire  to 
hasten  his  departure  from  the  house.  There  was  no 
visible  sign  of  the  toothache  of  which  she  had  complained, 
but  her  eyes  were  sunken  and  heavily  ringed  and  her  face 
looked  haggard  and  years  older  than  on  the  previous  day. 

She  followed  him  out  to  the  porch  and  when  half  way 
down  the  lane  he  turned  she  was  still  standing  there  watch- 
ing him. 

In  plain  sight  Paul  boarded  a  car  bound  for  the  center 
of  town,  but  alighted  at  the  first  intersecting  street  and 
walked  quickly  back  and  beyond  the  head  of  the  lane  to  the 
next  cross  road.  He  followed  it  parallel  with  the  lane 
until  he  came  to  a  pleasant  house  set  well  back  in  an 
orchard,  through  the  blossoming  branches  of  which  he  could 
see  the  rear  of  the  empty,  deserted  cottage. 

A  young  woman  with  a  child  clinging  shyly  to  her  skirt 
was  pumping  water  from  a  well  nearby  and  Paul  ap- 
proached her,  hat  in  hand. 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  walked  through  your  orchard  to 
the  garden  of  that  unoccupied  place?"  he  asked,  with  an 
ingratiating  smile.  "I  live  on  the  next  lane  and  I  would 
like  to  take  a  short  cut." 

The  young  woman  smiled,  too,  and  nodded. 

"Go  right  ahead,"  she  said.  "That  cottage  belongs  to 
my  sister  and  there's  a  gate  cut  through  the  fence  at  the 
back." 

Paul  thanked  her  and  proceeded  on  his  way,  but  when 
he  had  passed  through  the  little  wicket  gate  he  kept  well 
in  a  line  with  the  rear  of  the  cottage  so  that  no  curious  eye 


IN  THE  NIGHT  217 

could  perceive  him  from  the  porch  of  Mrs.  MacNab's. 

A  jutting  bay-window  gave  him  further  shelter.  Hug- 
ging the  wall  closely,  he  peered  around  it.  The  porch  of 
the  cottage  which  he  had  left  a  half-hour  before  was  de- 
serted now  and  the  windows  blank,  but  drawn  up  before 
the  gate  stood  a  horse  hitched  to  a  vehicle  of  the  old- 
fashioned  "buggy"  type,  from  the  back  of  which  protruded 
the  market  basket  which  Paul  had  seen  in  the  kitchen. 

As  he  watched,  the  front  door  opened  and  Mrs.  MacNab 
appeared,  supporting  upon  her  arm  another  and  strange 
woman,  heavily  veiled,  whose  bent  form  tottered  as  she 
descended  the  steps. 

"It's  over  warm  for  that  veil,  Mrs.  Grant."  The  land- 
lady's usually  quiet  tones,  trembling  now  with  a  note  of 
exasperation,  carried  distinctly  to  Paul's  listening  ears. 
"You  could  see  better  if  you'd  put  it  by.  Mind  the  step !" 

She  deposited  her  visitor  safely  in  the  carriage,  climbed 
in  beside  her  and  drove  off  down  the  lane.  Paul  waited  until 
the  little  cloud  of  dust  swirling  behind  the  vehicle  had  set- 
tled and  then  stepping  boldly  out  from  the  shelter  of  the 
bay-window  he  vaulted  the  fence  and  let  himself  into  the 
cottage  where  he  felt  at  last  that  the  crux  of  the  mystery 
lay  ready  to  his  hand. 


Chapter  XIX. 
WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED. 

AT  mid-day  Mrs.  MacNab  returned  on  foot  limping, 
dusty  and  all  but  spent.    She  started  in  surprise  at 
finding  her  latest  boarder  back  before  her  and  en- 
sconced on  the  porch  with  a  mass  of  blue  prints  scattered 
about  him. 

The  look  of  sharp  inquiry  faded  from  her  eyes,  how- 
ever, when  Paul  hailed  her  with  self-centred  enthusiasm. 

"Look  at  this,  Mrs.  MacNab!    Won't  it  be  great  when 
it's  finished?" 

He  spread  out  the  larger  of  the  blue  prints  across  his 
knees  for  her  inspection. 

"What  is  it  meant  for?"  she  asked,  after  a  cautious 
survey. 

"An  amusement  park!  Sort  of  an  inland  Coney  Island, 
if  you've  ever  heard  of  the  place.  Scenic  railways,  carou- 
sels, chutes,  Ferris  wheels  and  all  the  latest  stunts  for 
emptying  your  pockets  and  giving  you  thrills!  It's  what 
this  city  has  long  needed,  and  I'm  here  to  supply  it,  Mrs. 
MacNab !  I'm  going  to  give  the  public  a  chance  to  play !" 

"Humph !"  his  landlady  vouchsafed.  "If  you  could  make 
them  work,  the  majority  of  them,  you  would  be  doing  more 
good,  Mr.  Harvey!  There's  more  than  amusement  to  be 
thought  of,  in  these  grim  times ;  and  I  don't  hold  with  the 
wasting  of  money,  but  I've  no  doubt  you'll  make  a  suc- 
cess of  it." 


218 


WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED 

She  turned  and  trudged  wearily  into  the  house  and  Paul 
smiled  to  himself  as  he  gathered  up  the  plans  he  had  bor- 
rowed two  days  before.  As  she  paused  beside  him  he  had 
noted  beneath  the  dust  upon  her  boots  a  sub-layer  of  char- 
red cinders  and  across  the  sleeve  of  her  grey  cloak  a  long 
smudge  of  black. 

Miss  Busby  was  the  only  one  of  his  fellow  boarders  who 
returned  for  dinner,  but  the  school  claimed  her  again  im- 
mediately after  and  Paul  spent  a  long  afternoon  in  the 
inaction  of  pending  events  which  so  tried  his  soul.  He  could 
not  take  the  initiative  and  force  an  issue  lest  he  precipitately 
defeat  his  own  ends;  and  he  must  wait  passively  for  de- 
velopments to  shape  themselves  and  the  waiting  bred  once 
more  the  old  doubt  and  distrust.  These  were  precious 
days  to  waste  if,  with  his  present  objective  achieved,  he 
should  still  find  himself  no  nearer  the  solution  of  the  mys- 
tery. 

The  little  teacher  was  not  in  evidence  that  evening  and 
Paul  had  undisputed  possession  of  the  porch  until,  the 
supper  dishes  finished,  Mrs.  MacNab  joined  him.  She 
made  an  obvious  effort  at  conversation  but  the  phrases 
came  haltingly  from  her  unaccustomed  tongue  and  at  length 
she  gave  up  further  pretense  and  sat  staring  down  the  lane 
in  eager,  troubled  anticipation. 

"Are  you  expecting  anyone?"  asked  Paul. 

He  spoke  quietly,  but  at  the  suddenness  of  the  question 
his  landlady  started  nervously. 

"Oh,  no,  I — have  you  noticed  anyone  loitering  about, 
Mr.  Harvey?" 

"Not  now,  but  last  night,"  he  responded.  "There  was  an 
Italian  who  seemed  to  be  patrolling  the  lane." 

"How  do  you  know  he  was  Italian  ?"  Mrs.  MacNab  asked 
in  unguarded  anxiety. 


220  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I  had  a  little  talk  with  him."  Paul  eyed  her  blandly  as 
though  surprised  at  her  interest.  "He  appeared  to  be  a 
rough  sort  of  individual  for  this  neighborhood  and  I  asked 
him  what  he  was  doing  here;  he  told  me  he  was  waiting 
for  a  friend." 

Mrs.  MacNab  shivered  a  little  and  drew  her  crocheted 
shawl  closer  about  her  thin  shoulders. 

"I  don't  know  who  he  can  be,"  she  murmured.  "If  he 
hangs  around  any  more  I'll  speak  to  the  policeman  the  next 
time  I  meet  him.  Not  that  I've  anything  anybody  would 
steal,  but  I  don't  like  the  notion  of  foreigners  prowling 
about.  I — I  don't  see  him  to-night." 

The  tone  in  which  she  added  the  last  sentence  belied  her 
words  in  its  unconscious  wistfulness;  it  was  almost  as  if 
she  would  have  welcomed  the  presence  of  the  nocturnal 
watcher.  Paul  laughed  shortly. 

"He  is  on  hand,  nevertheless.  He  dodged  around  behind 
that  empty  cottage  over  the  way  just  as  you  came  out  on 
the  porch ;  the  friend  for  whom  he  is  waiting  must  be  a 
procrastinator. — There  he  is!  Can  you  see  him  now, 
under  that  cherry  tree  at  the  back?" 

The  tree,  a  mass  of  snowy  blossoms,  loomed  ghostlike 
in  the  darkness  and  as  he  spoke  a  shadow  moved  beneath 
it. 

Mrs.  MacNab  nodded  and  sat  back  in  her  chair. 

"I  doubt  that  he's  aught  but  a  harmless  lunatic,"  she 
observed.  "Still  he  should  not  be  at  large  to  worry  house- 
holder* .  .  .  How  long  are  you  planning  to  stay  in  River- 
boro,  Mr.  Harvey?" 

Paul  made  a  non-committal  rejoinder  and  the  conversa- 
tion flowed  on  in  desultory  fashion  for  another  half-hour 
before  Mrs.  MacNab  rose. 

"I'm  going  to  bed  myself,"  Paul  volunteered.     "I  have 


WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED         221 

an  early  appointment  to-morrow  and  a  big  day  before  me. 
Will  you  wake  me  at  seven,  please?" 

She  agreed  and  Paul  went  to  his  room,  where  he  extin- 
guished the  light  and  placed  himself  at  the  window  as  on 
the  night  before. 

The  shadow  beneath  the  cherry  tree  across  the  lane 
shifted,  and  presently  Paul  saw  a  dark  figure  climb  over 
the  padlocked  gate  and  take  up  once  more  his  stealthy 
patrol. 

Miss  Busby  returned,  escorted  by  a  tall  and  deliberate 
youth  who  took  protracted  leave  of  her  at  the  porch  steps ; 
then  the  two  clerks  reappeared  and  sought  their  rooms  and 
in  an  hour  complete  darkness  and  silence  had  fallen  over 
the  household.  A  glance  from  the  side  window  showed 
that  no  candle  burned  in  the  kitchen  to-night  and  Paul 
began  to  grow  uneasy.  What  if  his  vigil  were  to  go  un- 
rewarded and  another  day  of  waiting  ensue? 

The  clock  somewhere  below  struck  midnight  and  as  its 
final  note  died  away  a  single  crunching  step  on  the  gravel 
path  brought  Paul  to  the  front  window  once  more.  Mrs. 
MacNab  in  her  long,  gray  cloak  was  moving  swiftly  to  the 
gate,  her  feet  making  no  sound  upon  the  grass  border  of  the 
path  save  that  one  misstep  which  had  sounded  the  warning. 

Paul  seized  his  coat  and  hat  and  slipping  down  the  stairs, 
softly  opened  the  front  door.  Mrs.  MacNab  herself  had 
vanished,  but  as  he  drew  the  door  shut  behind  him  he  be- 
held the  figure  of  the  Italian,  bent  low  and  hugging  the 
shadow  of  the  hedge,  steal  by  swiftly  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  lane.  Waiting  only  until  he  had  passed  on  a  few 
yards,  Paul  followed,  and  a  strange  procession  began. 

They  were  moving  away  from  the  trolley  line  in  the  same 
direction  in  which  Mrs.  MacNab  had  driven  off  that  morn- 
ing. She  walked  swiftly  without  glancing  back.  Beneath 


222  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

the  arc-light  at  the  intersection  of  the  road  ahead  she  crossed 
and  disappeared  into  the  shadows  once  more,  with  the 
Italian  doggedly  at  her  heels  and  Paul  bringing  up  the 
rear,  one  hand  resting  significantly  in  his  coat  pocket. 

For  a  mile  or  two  they  progressed  steadily,  while  the 
closely  bundled  cottages  gave  place  to  broad  stretches  of 
open  fields  with  patches  of  woods  between  and  here  and 
there  a  farmhouse,  dark  and  silent  beneath  the  clouded, 
brooding  night  sky.  The  Italian  neither  hurried  nor  slack- 
ened his  pace,  but  maintained  a  uniform  distance  between 
himself  and  his  quarry,  until  a  dense  tract  of  woodland 
loomed  before  them  and  a  sharp  turn  in  the  road  hid  the 
foremost  figure  from  view.  Then  the  second  broke  into  a 
shambling  run  and  with  almost  incredible  swiftness,  con- 
sidering his  infirmity,  Paul  closed  in  on  him. 

The  Italian  heard  his  approach  and  wheeled  upon  him 
with  something  upraised  above  his  head  which  gleamed 
even  in  the  darkness.  He  essayed  to  leap  upon  his  adver- 
sary, but  Paul  dodged  agilely  and  the  hand  which  had 
rested  in  his  coat  pocket  flashed  up  and  then  downward, 
bringing  the  butt  of  his  pistol  with  crushing  force  upon 
the  other's  head. 

The  Italian  swayed  and  crumpled  to  the  roadway  where 
he  lay  motionless,  the  long,  slender  knife  slipping  from  his 
grasp.  Paul  pocketed  it  and  unceremoniously  rolled  the 
unconscious  form  into  the  concealing  underbush.  For  a 
moment  longer  he  waited,  but  no  sound  came  from  the 
thicket  and,  satisfied,  he  turned  and  made  off  around  the 
bend  in  the  road. 

Mrs.  MacNab  had  vanished,  but  a  faint  light  sputtered 
where  the  woods  ended  abruptly  in  the  stubble  of  an  over- 
grown, neglected  field  and  the  gaunt  skeleton  timbers  of  a 
house  which  had  been  partially  consumed  by  fire  reared 


WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED         223 

themselves  against  the  lesser  darkness.  The  light  wavered 
among  the  ruins  and  vanished  abruptly,  to  be  revealed  a 
moment  later  silhouetting  the  open  square  of  an  unshuttered 
window. 

It  appeared  that  one  wing  of  the  house  had  remained 
comparatively  intact  and  Paul  made  his  way  quickly  over 
the  rough,  uneven  ground  and  peered  in  at  the  aperture. 
The  room  was  large  and  had  evidently  been  the  kitchen,  for 
a  rusty  stove  stood  in  one  corner  and  strings  of  herbs 
festooned  with  cobwebs  hung  from  the  low  rafters.  Across 
a  chair  were  flung  a  woman's  gown  and  hat,  its  veil  sweep- 
ing the  floor. 

Mrs.  MacNab  stood  beside  the  rickety  table,  her  candle 
raised  above  her  head  and  her  solicitous  gaze  fixed  upon  a 
couch  against  the  wall  where  beneath  a  heap  of  blankets 
something  stirred  and  muttered.  Behind  her  a  door  yawn- 
ing crazily  upon  one  hinge  showed  the  means  by  which 
she  had  gained  entrance.  Paul  dodged  from  the  window 
and  crept  noiselessly  around  through  the  charred  debris 
until  he  reached  its  embrasure. 

The  candle  had  been  placed  upon  the  table  and  Mrs. 
MacNab  was  bending  over  the  couch  when,  as  Paul  ven- 
tured beyond  the  sill,  a  traitorous  board  creaked  beneath 
his  foot. 

She  straightened  with  blanched  face  and  furious,  blazing 
eyes. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  following  me  here?"  she  de- 
manded in  a  low  shaking  voice.  "How  dare  you  spy  upon 
me!" 

"The  Italian  followed  you,"  Paul  responded  with  his 
eyes  fastened  upon  the  couch.  "He  had  a  knife  in  his 
hand  and  had  almost  caught  up  with  you  when  I  came  upon 
him," 


224  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

Mrs.  MacNab  shrank  back. 

"Where  is  he?"  she  whispered. 

"Lying  in  the  ditch  around  the  turn  in  the  road.  He 
won't  trouble  you  again." 

"Well,"  she  drew  a  deep,  tremulous  breath.  "I'm  mightily 
obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Harvey,  but  you  shouldn't  have  fol- 
lowed me  here.  Please  go  straight  back  and  don't  ask 
any  questions  or — or  say  a  word  to  anyone." 

"I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  MacNab,  but  I'm  not  going  back  until 
I  have  learned  the  truth.  I  have  come  all  the  way  from 
Eastopolis  to  ask  Zenas  Prall  how  the  woman  known  to 
us  as  Mrs.  Hartshorne  came  to  her  death." 

Mrs.  MacNab  gave  a  sobbing  gasp  and  backed  against 
the  couch,  her  thin,  angular  arms  outspread  protectingly, 
but  a  waxen,  ghastly  face  surmounted  by  a  lock  of  strag- 
gling white  hair  rose  wraith-like  from  amid  the  blankets, 
and  a  broken,  husky  voice  cried : 

"It  wasn't  I !  She  fell  before  my  eyes,  but  I  didn't 
kill  her !  Good  God,  my  last  hope  died  with  her !  My  last 
hope!" 

"Your  last  hope  of  what,  Mr.  Prall?  You  had  better 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it  now."  Paul  spoke  not  ungently, 
for  the  wreck  of  a  man  before  him  seemed  hovering  upon 
the  verge  of  dissolution.  A  greyish  pallor  had  overspread 
his  deeply  lined  face  and  he  sank  back  gasping,  with  one 
claw-like  hand  tearing  at  his  side. 

"You're  killing  him !"  moaned  Mrs.  MacNab  fiercely. 
"Couldn't  you  give  him  the  last  few  days  in  peace  ? — Don't 
try  to  answer  him,  Mr  Prall!  The  law  can't  touch  you 
aow!" 

"I — I  must."  The  man  upon  the  couch  struggled  to  sit 
upright.  "Get  off — mind,  Margaret!  Nothing  else — 
matters,  now!" 


WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED 

"Then  wait !"  she  flew  to  the  table  where  a  brandy  flask 
stood  and  with  shaking  hands  poured  a  measure  into  a 
cup  and  brought  it  to  the  couch.  Zenas  Prall  drank  it  in 
strangling  gulps  and  fell  back  upon  his  improvised  pillows, 
but  as  the  potent  stimulant  surged  through  his  veins  a  tinge 
of  faint  color  crept  into  his  pallid  face. 

"You  say  you  came  from  Eastopolis  to  find  me?"  he 
asked. 

Paul  nodded. 

"I'm  a  special  investigator  under  the  Chief  of  Police; 
the  Hartshorne  case  is  in  my  hands." 

"I  might  have  known — !"  Mrs.  MacNab  began  hotly, 
but  the  sick  man  motioned  her  to  silence  and  she  seated  her- 
self by  the  table  with  her  head  in  her  hands. 

"Hartshorne!"  Zenas  Frail's  pale  lips  twisted  in  grim 
derision.  "She  was  Alma  Horton  when  I  met  her — curse 
her!" 

"Just  a  minute,"  Paul  interposed,  fearful  lest  the  other's 
false  strength  fail  before  he  had  elicited  the  paramount 
facts  from  him.  "Mrs.  Hartshorne — or  Horton — fell  be- 
fore your  eyes.  Who  killed  her,  if  you  did  not?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  didn't  see  where  the  shot  came  from; 
I  didn't  even  know  that  she  was  shot  until  I  read  it  in  the 
papers,  nor  how  it  happened  that  her  body  was  found 
later  in  her  own  home.  Do  you  know  where  she  died  ?" 

"In  the  conservatory  at  the  residence  of  Colonel  Amasa 
Ledyard,"  Paul  responded. 

"Yes."  The  other  nodded  eagerly.  "I  was  gazing  in 
at  the  window  when  she  raised  her  eyes  and  met  mine.  All 
I  knew  after  that  was  that  she  recoiled  as  if  she  had  seen  a 
ghost,  whipped  a  pistol  from  her  gown  and  levelled  it  at 
me.  The  next  instant  her  hands  were  flung  up  as  if  jerked 
by  a  string,  her  shot  went  wild  and  she  toppled  over  into  a 


226  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

bank  of  some  brown  and  purple  flowers,  and  lay  still. 

"But  you  had  better  let  me  tell  my  story  as  it  concerns 
her  in  my  own  way,  young  man;  I  don't  think  there  will 
be  any  too  much  time.  They  say  wild  oats  are  like  dis- 
temper; if  you're  young  you  get  over  them,  but  if  they 
come  on  you  late  in  life,  it  is  hopeless.  There's  a  kind  of 
a  health  resort  a  few  miles  back  in  the  hills  here  called 
Greenbrier  Springs,  with  a  hotel  and  sanitarium  combined 
where  gambling  used  to  be  wide  open.  I  went  there  now 
and  again  for  the  baths  and  the  gambling  fever  got  me.  I 
was  always  careful,  so  careful  that  not  a  hint  of  it  came  out 
at  my  trial,  but  there  was  many  a  quiet  little  game  there 
behind  closed  doors  when  the  sky  was  the  limit.  I  only 
gambled,  though,  with  my  own  money;  make  no  mistake 
about  that,  young  man.  I  never  played  with  a  cent  of  the 
bank's  funds ;  those  went  to  the  woman. 

"I  met  her  there  five  years  ago.  She  was  a  young  widow 
taking  a  rest  cure,  after  having  been  defrauded  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  money  her  husband  left  her  by  a  snide 
brokerage  house.  She  had  a  scheme  to  beat  them  at  their 
own  game  and  drive  them  to  the  wall  if  only  she  could  com- 
mand the  capital  necessary  to  operate — but  that  came  later. 

"I  had  never  cared  particularly  for  any  woman,  but  she 
had  a  face  like  a  saint  and  was  so  gentle  and  womanly  and 
helplessly  confiding — Lord !  I  fell  hard !  She  never  touched 
a  card;  I  didn't  dream  then  that  she  knew  a  game  was 
being  run  there.  She  just  walked  about  the  grounds  or 
sat  on  the  veranda,  lonely  and  pensive  like  a  child  that  has 
been  hurt  and  doesn't  know  why. 

"I  was  blindly,  madly  infatuated  and,  when  she  told  me 
of  her  loss  and  her  plan  to  recoup,  I  begged  her  to  forego 
her  revenge  and  marry  me,  but  she  would  not.  Soft  and 
yielding  as  she  was,  she  made  it  an  absolute  condition  that 


WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED         227 

she  must  first  be  enabled  to  break  the  men  who  had  robbed 
her. 

"My  losses  at  cards  had  been  appalling,  but  I  beggared 
myself  for  her;  mortgaged  everything  I  possessed  to  the 
hilt,  even  this  poor  shack  which  was  my  birthplace.  Still 
she  was  insatiable  and  I  drew  upon  the  funds  in  my  care. 
It  was  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

"When  the  inevitable  exposure  threatened  I  went  to  her 
and  confessed,  imploring  her  to  help  me  make  restitution; 
but  her  scheme  had  failed,  she  had  lost  the  money  and  was 
virtuously  horrified  at  what  I  had  done.  She  disappeared, 
the  resort  was  closed  in  mid-season  and  ultimately  sold. 
Then  the  storm  broke  over  me. 

"I  bore  it  alone;  I  would  not  betray  her,  but  after  my 
conviction  I  arranged  with  the  few  thousands  I  had  left 
to  have  her  traced.  Much  can  be  done  with  liberality  and 
I  was  playing  for  high  stakes,  the  highest  of  my  life !  When 
the  reports  were  smuggled  in  to  me  and  I  learned  what 
manner  of  woman  had  ruined  me  I  went  mad,  I  think.  She 
was  an  adventuress  of  the  worst  type;  her  losses  in  Wall 
Street,  her  plans  to  recoup,  had  all  been  part  of  the  game. 
She  had  bled  me  to  the  bone  and  made  away  with  all  I  had 
given  her. 

"I  could  have  denounced  her  then,  but  it  had  become  a 
matter  between  her  and  me  alone  and  I  waited.  I  was  sure 
from  the  first  that  I  would  be  released  in  time  to  find  her 
and  compel  her  to  make  restitution  that  I  might  come  back 
and  make  good,  at  least,  in  part,  before  the  end. 

"She  lived  very  quietly,  moving  constantly  from  place  to 
place.  Twice  in  these  four  black  years  my  man  lost  track 
of  her,  but  each  time  he  found  her  again.  Last  autumn  he 
traced  her  from  New  York  to  Eastopolis  and  found  that 
she  had  established  herself  permanently  and  broken  into 


238  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

society.  My  health  was  failing  and  knowing  that  I  was 
near  the  end  I  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  obtain  my  release. 
It  came  a  fortnight  ago  and  I  went  straight  to  Eastopolis." 

His  voice  had  grown  gradually  lower  and  more  faint  and 
now  it  ceased  altogether  and  he  slumped  back  among  the 
pillows,  but  Mrs.  MacNab  was  at  his  side  in  an  instant  with 
the  brandy.  Paul  forbore  to  interrupt  his  train  of  thought 
by  question  or  comment  and  after  a  moment's  respite  he 
took  up  the  thread  once  more. 

"I  sought  cheap,  inconspicuous  lodgings  and  dogged  her 
footsteps,  but  I  did  not  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  until  late 
Wednesday  afternoon,  when  I  peered  in  the  drawing-room 
window  of  her  house.  Some  man  was  with  her  and  I 
dodged  just  in  time,  I  think,  to  prevent  her  seeing  me.  I 
returned  a  half  hour  later  and  saw  a  face  in  the  basement 
window  which  I  fancied  was  hers,  but  it  proved  to  be  just 
that  of  some  servant. 

"I  learned  from  the  papers  the  next  day  that  she  was  to 
be  present  at  the  Red  Cross  ball.  I  went  there  and  hung 
about  in  the  garden,  I  don't  know  why,  exactly.  My  brain 
wasn't  clear,  but  I  had  no  weapon  and  never  meant  to  use 
one ;  I  felt  only  that  I  must  cling  to  her  trail  until  I  could 
meet  her  face  to  face  and  demand  that  she  make  restitution. 

"I  found  a  ledge  which  ran  along  beneath  the  conserva- 
tory windows,  climbed  upon  it  and  waited  there — for  hours 
it  seemed.  At  last  she  entered  with  a  man,  the  same  one 
who  had  been  in  her  drawing-room  with  her  on  the  previous 
day.  They  quarreled  violently  and  he  seemed  to  be  threat- 
ening her,  when  suddenly  he  turned  and  rushed  from  the 
conservatory. 

"The  music  of  the  orchestra  reached  even  my  ears  out 
there  in  great  crashes  of  discord  and  thunderous  noise. 
I  did  not  even  hear  the  shot  which  killed  her.  In  the  midst 


WHERE  THE  CANDLE  FLICKERED         239 

of  it  she  stood  and  laughed  maliciously  with  her  lips  curled 
back  from  her  teeth.  Still  laughing  she  glanced  up  and 
met  my  eyes.  I've  told  you  the  rest." 

He  sank  back  wearily  once  more,  but  Paul  prompted  him. 

"Not  quite  all.    What  did  you  do  when  you  saw  her  fall  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  responded  Zenas  Prall  feebly.  He  was 
weakening  fast,  but  he  waved  away  the  cup  which  Mrs. 
MacNab  would  have  held  to  his  lips.  "No  more,  Margaret. 
I've  strength  enough  to  finish. — A  sort  of  unreasoning 
terror  seized  me  as  if  in  some  way  my  look  had  struck  her 
to  the  earth.  Somehow  I  got  out  of  that  garden  and  back 
to  my  lodgings.  I  was  wretchedly  ill  the  next  day  and  the 
afternoon  papers  with  their  account  of  the  murder  gave 
me  the  final  blow;  I  fell  into  a  fever  and  only  the  fear  of 
what  I  might  reveal  in  my  ravings  gave  me  strength  to 
combat  the  delirium.  But  I  was  dazed  and  half  out  of  my 
mind,  as  it  was. 

"On  Monday  I  dragged  myself  to  the  funeral,  but  some- 
how I  could  not  realize  even  then  that  my  last  hope  was 
gone.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  tear  the  casket  apart  and  force 
her  dead  hands  to  give  me  back  the  money  which  I  had 
stolen  for  her.  I  stood  beside  her  bier  with  my  hand  upon 
it,  when  an  usher  came  and  led  me  away. 

"It  was  all  over !  I  realized  that  night  that  the  end  had 
come  for  me.  I  would  have  gone  then,  I  think,  but  for  the 
overmastering  longing  which  possessed  me  to  die  here,  in  my 
own  place.  There  was  one  loyal  soul  in  all  the  world  who 
would  take  me  in,  I  knew,  and  so  last  night  I  came — Mar- 
garet, what  time  is  it?" 

"After  two,  Mr.  Prall,"  she  responded  in  a  choked  roict . 
"I'll  go  at  dawn,"  he  murmured  sleepily.    "Margaret,  it's 
—it's  good  to  be  home  1" 
"Mr.  Prall!"    The  younger  man  bent  over  him  swiftly. 


330  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Who  was  the  man  you  employed  to  trace  Mrs.  Hartshorne  ? 
Tell  me!  What  was  his  name?" 

"Name?"  he  repeated  vaguely.  "Oh,  you  mean  Car- 
michael?  He  was  head — New  York  agency.  Died  two 
months  ago;  pneumonia.  Told  you  all,  now.  Must — 
rest " 

The  mumbling  whisper  ceased  and  the  lids  fluttered  down 
over  his  tired  eyes.  Only  his  labored  breathing  told  that 
he  still  lived.  Paul  leaned  toward  his  fellow  watcher  and 
uttered  a  single  word. 

"Doctor?" 

Mrs.  MacNab  shook  her  head  violently  with  a  gesture 
of  hopelessness  and  Paul  settled  himself  to  his  vigil. 

It  was  not  long  protracted.  The  harsh,  rasping  breath 
grew  fainter  and  as  the  first  pale  streaks  of  dawn  lightened 
the  sky  it  ceased  so  imperceptibly  that  it  was  only  when  the 
tired  eyes  opened  in  what  seemed  calm  content  that  they 
knew  Zenas  Prall  had  passed  to  a  higher  Tribunal. 


Chapter  XX. 
THE  TORN  CARD. 

»TT  ATE  on  Friday  evening  Paul  sat  closeted  with  Chief 
Burke  at  Headquarters  once  more,  reporting  in  detail 
•*•— *  his  visit  to  Riverboro  and  its  unexpected  result. 

"Not  so  unexpected,  though,"  he  qualified.  "It's  odd, 
but  I  had  an  instinctive  sense  of  doubt  that  when  I  did 
locate  Prall  he  would  prove  to  have  been  the  murderer. 
After  I  had  seen  Mrs.  McNab  drive  off  with  that  veiled, 
tottering  old  figure  in  the  buggy  I  went  in  and  searched  the 
house.  But  I  found  nothing  conclusive,  barring  the  fact 
that  although  there  were  only  five  occupants,  a  sixth  room — 
a  very  small  one  up  under  the  eaves — had  certainly  been 
slept  in  the  night  before.  That  proved  conclusively  that 
the  stranger  had  not  arrived  in  the  carriage  while  I  was 
reconnoitering,  but  had  come  stealthily  just  before  the  dawn 
when  I  heard  that  labored  ascent  of  the  stairs. 

"I  went  downtown  then,  interviewed  Coe  of  the  Muni- 
cipal again,  saw  the  Chief  of  Police  and  presented  your 
letter.  And  I  learned  among  other  things  that  Prall  had 
risen  from  humble  stock  and  that  his  birthplace,  situated  a 
few  miles  out  of  town,  had  only  recently  been  destroyed  by 
fire. 

"That  Italian  who  lurked  about — Tony  Caputo— was  one 
of  the  depositors  who  had  been  ruined  when  Prall  wrecked 
the  old  Riverboro,  as  I  learned  later,  and  Mrs.  MacNab, 
as  well  as  I,  knew  that  he  must  have  heard  of  Frail's  re- 

231 


232  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

lease  and  was  watching  and  waiting  to  do  for  him  if  he 
showed  up.  If  it  were  indeed  Prall  who  had  come  in  the 
night  and  been  smuggled  out  dressed  in  Mrs.  MacNab's 
old  clothes,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  old  farmhouse  where 
he  was  born,  provided  enough  of  it  still  stood  to  afford 
shelter,  would  be  the  likeliest  place  where  she  would 
secrete  him. 

"When  Mrs.  MacNab  returned  and  I  saw  the  charred 
cinders  ground  into  her  boots  and  the  smudge  on  her  sleeve 
I  was  sure  I  had  guessed  right;  but  I  couldn't  approach 
the  place  in  daylight  for  fear  the  old  man  would  take 
alarm  and  get  away.  Mrs.  MacNab  led  me  there  herself 
last  night." 

"There  is  one  thing  I  want  to  know."  The  Chief  grinned. 
"Did  you  kill  the  Italian?" 

"Caputo?"  Paul's  eyes  twinkled.  "No,  he  is  only  the 
worse  for  a  sore  head;  he  showed  up  at  a  hospital  himself 
before  I  could  send  out  after  him.  Mrs.  MacNab  told  me 
her  side  of  it  all  after  Prall's  death.  She  has  a  strong  sense 
of  duty  and  she  had  stuck  to  her  employer  through  thick 
and  thin.  She  even  went  to  Atlanta  for  him  on  hearing  that 
he  was  to  be  released,  but  he  managed  to  elude  her  in  order 
to  carry  out  that  crazed  plan  of  his.  She  was  the  only  one 
who  had  known  of  his  infatuation  for  the  woman  who 
called  herself  'Alma  Horton',  and  suspected  that  she  was 
the  main  cause  of  his  downfall.  She  had  seen  them  to- 
gether more  than  once  and  when  she  found  that  newspaper 
picture  in  my  room  of  the  woman  who  had  been  murdered 
here  and  recognized  her,  »he  was  sure  that  Prall  had 
killed  her. 

"She  told  me  of  her  shock  when  he  appeared  that  night, 
how  frightfully  he  had  changed  during  his  imprisonment 
and  how  he  convinced  her  of  his  innocence  in  connection 


THE  TORN  CARD  233 

with  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  death.  But  she  realized  that  he 
would  be  accused  and  that  at  any  moment  we  might  be  on 
his  trail ;  that  was  why  she  dared  not  risk  keeping  him  in 
her  own  house.  The  poor  old  creature  is  heartbroken  now, 
but  I  think  she  is  a  bit  relieved,  too,  that  it  is  all  over." 

"And  we've  got  to  begin  once  more !"  The  Chief's  smile 
had  changed  to  a  frown  and  he  smote  the  desk  before  him. 
"In  all  the  annals  of  the  Department  there  has  never  been 
a  case  to  equal  this  in  pure  cussedness!  Who  fired  that 
shot,  anyway?  It's  a  cinch  that  it  never  came  from  the 
ball-room.  Mrs.  Cowles  was  eavesdropping  in  one  corner 
of  the  conservatory;  could  someone  else,  unknown  to  her, 
have  been  hiding  in  another ;  or  do  you  suppose  she  knows 
herself  and  is  holding  out  on  you?" 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  convinced  that  she  told  me  all  she  knew.  I'm  afraid 
we'll  have  to  dig  back  further  yet  in  Mrs.  Horton — Harts- 
horne's past  for  the  truth.  It's  a  rotten  stroke  of  luck 
that  Carmichael — the  private  detective  Prall  employed  to 
trace  her — should  have  died;  I'm  going  to  take  a  run  up 
to  New  York  and  see  if  I  can  get  hold  of  any  notes  he 
may  have  made  on  the  case.  By  the  way,  did  Lumsden  re- 
turn yet?" 

"This  morning,"  the  Chief  responded.  "You  had  the 
right  dope,  Paul ;  he  traced  all  her  jewels  except  a  few 
minor  pieces  and  found  she  had  purchased  every  one  of 
them  in  New  York  during  that  month  before  she  came  here, 
trading  loose  stones  for  them  in  some  cases ;  and  later  ex- 
amination showed  surface  scratches  where  those  stones  had 
been  pried  from  their  settings  by  a  rank  amateur.  She 
meant  to  start  her  campaign  with  a  clean  slate,  all  right! 
You  would  never  have  thought,  to  look  at  her,  that  she 
would  turn  out  to  have  been  a  con  woman  like  that,  roping 


234  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

in  old  Prall.  But  those  soft-spoken,  ladylike  ones  with 
brains  are  always  the  worst !" 

"I  suspected  from  the  start  of  our  investigation  that  she 
was  something  more  than  a  social  grafter,"  observed  Paul. 
"Do  you  remember  when  we  examined  the  little  secretary, 
Rose  Adare,  and  she  told  us  what  well-kept  hands  Mrs. 
Hartshorne's  were  and  how  she  had  an  odd  trick  of  curling 
the  little  finger  of  her  right  hand?  That  was  habit,  an  old 
trick  of  the  professional  card  sharp.  And  she  missed  the 
long,  pointed  nail  there;  the  nail  that  helped  her  to  deal 
from  the  bottom  of  the  pack.  Later,  when  Mrs.  Cowles 
mentioned  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  peculiar  luck  at  bridge,  I 
was  convinced.  In  their  usual  small-limit  games  she  didn't 
try  to  put  anything  over,  but  when  occasionally  they  played 
for  very  high  stakes  she  took  her  hand  off  her  number; 
couldn't  resist  the  temptation  of  working  her  old  tactics, 
in  spite  of  the  risk  of  losing  all  she  had  schemed  for  in 
coming  here.  And  of  course  she  won.  Her  way  of  living 
bore  out  my  supposition,  too;  she  didn't  use  a  quarter  of 
her  income  and  kept  enough  money  loose  in  the  house  to 
carry  her  far  on  a  quick  getaway.  What  have  you  done 
about  Sadie  Mullen?" 

"What  you  asked,  but  it's  sheer  rot!"  the  Chief  exploded. 
"She's  got  the  makings  of  a  first  class  crook  in  her,  and 
some  day  she'll  break  out  again  and  make  more  trouble 
for  the  Department  if  we  don't  send  her  up  for  a  stretch. 
I've  got  what  was  left  of  her  swag  locked  up  with  the  rest 
of  the  Hartshorne's  woman's  loose  coin,  had  Sadie  up  on 
a  minor  charge  and  framed  it  to  have  her  paroled  in  Rose 
Adare's  custody.  I  hope  you'll  remember,  though,  that 
you're  here  to  round  up  crooks  and  convict  them,  not  re- 
form them !" 

Paul  smiled  in  perfect  understanding. 


THE  TORN  CARD  235 

"What  about  the  French  maid,  Matilde?" 

"She's  out,  of  course,  but  I'm  having  her  shadowed  day 
and  night  and  she  knows  it.  If  she  tries  to  skip  the  town 
I'll  have  her  run  in,  but  she  doesn't  show  any  sign  of  such 
an  intention." 

"How  is  she  living,  and  where?" 

"She  seems  to  have  been  a  thrifty  individual;  has  a 
drawing  account  of  over  five  hundred  dollars  in  one  bank 
and  nearly  three  thousand  in  the  First  National.  She  has 
gone  to  board  with  a  seamstress  named  Ebers,  at  number 
eighty-three  Cleveland  Road,  and  sticks  close  to  the  house." 
The  Chief  pivoted  about  in  his  chair  as  Paul  rose.  "Where 
are  you  off  to  now  ?" 

"Home  to  get  some  sleep,"  Paul  responded.  "I  shall 
start  for  New  York  on  the  noon  train  to-morrow.  Any  in- 
structions, sir?" 

He  added  the  last  slyly  and  his  colleague  growled: 

"Instructions?  Surest  thing  you  know!  Bring  in  the 
man  who  killed  Mrs.  Hartshorne!" 

Bright  and  early  the  next  morning,  when  Rose  Adare 
was  preparing  to  start  upon  her  daily  round  of  calls,  the 
door-bell  rang  and  opening  it  herself  she  beheld  Paul 
Harvey  standing  upon  the  threshold. 

"Oh,  it's  you!"  Her  salutation  was  brief,  but  had  it 
not  been  dark  in  the  passageway  the  sudden  deep  flush 
which  mantled  her  cheeks  would  have  been  plainly  visible. 
"You're  back,  Mr.  Harvey!  What  luck?" 

"The  best  and  the  worst,"  he  said  lightly  as  he  held  out 
his  hand.  "You  were  awfully  good  to  adopt  my  sugges- 
tion about  the  little  Mullen  girl.  How  is  she  getting  along?" 

"That's  the  funny  part  of  it;  she's  doing/  splendidly!" 
Rose  led  him  into  the  little  front  parlor.  "Uf  course,  she's 


236  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

full  of  gratitude  to  me  now,  because  she  thinks  I  saved 
her  from  jail,  but  she's  really  taking  an  interest.  I'm  hav- 
ing her  taught  manicuring  and  facial  massage.  The  creams 
and  pastes  and  tonics  are  a  lot  more  fun  than  dirty  dishes. 
You  can't  blame  Sadie  for  not  liking  that  sort  of  work. 
She's  getting  over  her  screen-struck  notions,  and  I'll  make 
a  beauty  expert  of  her  yet!  She's  in  the  kitchen  now, 
putting  up  lip  salve  in  jars.  Do  you  want  to  see  her? 
After  all,  it  was  you  who  saved  her  from  paying  for  that 
one  mistake  and  I — I  think  it  was  fine  of  you !" 

It  was  Paul's  turn  to  flush;  but  he  turned  her  praise 
aside  with  a  laugh. 

"You  are  the  one  who  is  paying  for  it !  I  won't  interrupt 
her  labors,  but  I  only  hope  she  appreciates  all  you  are  doing 
for  her.  It  seems  as  if  I  were  continually  asking  favors 
of  you,  Miss  Adare,  every  time  we  meet.  Soon  I  shall  be 
fairly  swamped  in  my  indebtedness  to  you!" 

"Does  that  mean  that  you've  got  something  more  for 
me  ?"  she  cried  eagerly.  "The  case  isn't  ended,  then  ?  You 
haven't  found  the  murderer?" 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"Not  yet.  I'm  afraid  the  motive  lies  far  back  in  the  past 
somewhere.  We  will  have  to  find  it  before  we  can  lay 
our  hands  on  the  man.  I'm  telling  you  this,  Miss  Adare, 
because  I  do  want  your  help  once  more.  I  wish  you  would 
try  very  hard  to  remember  if  Mrs.  Hartshorne  never  drop- 
ped a  hint  as  to  any  possible  experience  she  might  have 
had  before  coming  here;  anything  which  might  give  us  a 
starting  point  prior  to  last  autumn  when  she  dropped  from 
the  clouds,  so  to  speak." 

"I've  been  doing  that  ever  since  the  murder,"  Rose  de- 
clared. "Puzzling  my  head,  I  mean,  to  recall  the  least 
thing  about  her.  Looking  back  now  I  can  see  how  cautious 


THE  TORN  CARD  237 

she  was,  but  it  struck  me  then  as  merely  well-bred  reticence. 
I've  lain  awake  nights  thinking  over  every  bit  of  conversa- 
tion I  can  remember  having  with  her,  and  two  or  three  little 
things  have  come  back  to  me  that  you  may  be  able  to  make 
something  of,  but  they're  awfully  vague. 

"Do  you  remember  a  month  or  so  ago  when  the  papers 
were  full  of  the  spring  floods  of  rivers  in  the  Middle  West? 
I  spoke  of  it  when  I  was  sorting  her  mail  at  the  time,  more 
to  make  conversation  than  anything  else,  and  she  nearly 
had  a  fit ;  she  said  she  had  had  a  frightful  experience  as  a 
child  and  couldn't  think  of  a  flood  even  now  without  going 
into  a  panic.  I  cannot  recall  her  exact  words  but  I  under- 
stood they  had  lived  on  a  farm  somewhere  on  the  bank  of 
a  big  river  which  overflowed  and  carried  everything  away. 
She  was  swept  off  downstream  for  two  days  clinging  to  the 
roof  of  a  chicken  house  before  the  wreckage  all  got  stuck 
in  a  jam  and  she  was  rescued. 

"When  I  became  interested  and  started  to  ask  questions 
she  shut  up  like  a  clam,  but  if  you  want  to  find  out  where 
she  was  raised  you  had  better  look  up  the  big  floods  around 
thirty  years  ago " 

"Thirty!"  Paul  interjected.  "Mrs.  Hartshorne  could 
only  have  been  a  baby  then,  if  she  existed  at  all !" 

Rose  smiled. 

"I  saw  by  the  papers  that  even  the  coroner  put  her  down 
as  being  between  twenty-five  and  thirty,  but  I'd  hate  to  be 
hanging  since  she  was  that  age!  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  mani- 
curist told  me  once  that  in  her  line  of  business  she  had 
learned  a  lot  of  little  infallible  signs  that  give  away  the 
years  as  well  as  a  birth-record  could,  and  I  learned  from 
her  one  way  of  telling  how  old  a  woman  is,  that  you  can't 
go  wrong  on,  and  which  even  the  statistic  cranks  haven't 
got  hold  of;  that  is  by  the  number  and  depth  of  the  little 


238  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

lines  across  the  finger  joints.  They  are  scarcely  creased 
before  twenty-five,  but  after  that  they  seem  to  add  about 
one  a  year  and  cut  in  deeper  all  the  time ;  I'm  speaking,  of 
course,  of  the  women  whose  hands  aren't  strained  and 
drawn  with  toil.  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  nearer  forty  than 
thirty,  if  you  ask  me !" 

"What  else  did  you  recall?"  asked  Paul,  amused  by  the 
ingenuity  of  her  reasoning.  "That  is  a  point  well  taken, 
Miss  Adare,  and  I  will  look  into  it." 

"Well,  maybe  this  is  just  foolishness  on  my  part — to  at- 
tach any  importance  to  it,  I  mean — but  in  February  a  musi- 
cal comedy  that  had  been  running  in  Chicago  for  over  a 
year  came  down  here  to  the  New  Gaiety.  I  went  the  open- 
ing night.  The  next  day  when  I  went  to  attend  to  some 
social  correspondence  for  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  she  mentioned 
a  box  party  the  Gaylors'  had  invited  her  to  for  that  eve- 
ning to  see  the  show ;  'The  Maytime  Maid',  it  was  called. 
I  was  surprised,  because  she  never  went  to  a  theatre  or 
public  place  like  that,  but  I  told  her  how  good  it  was  and 
how  the  comedian  had  kept  me  in  stitches  of  laughter.  She 
seemed  rather  quiet  and  thoughtful,  but  I  didn't  think  any- 
thing about  it  until  I  went  late  that  afternoon  to  Mrs. 
Gaylor's  on  a  hurry  call  to  send  out  some  invitations  for  a 
dinner,  and  she  spoke  of  having  received  a  last-minute  note 
of  regret  for  that  evening's  box  party  from  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne, and  how  it  had  upset  her  arrangements.  I  couldn't 
help  wondering  if  something  I'd  said  hadn't  made  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  change  her  mind  about  going." 

"Do  you  remember  exactly  what  you  did  say?"  Paul 
leaned  forward. 

"I  only  described  the  show  in  a  general  way  and  told 
her  some  of  the  novelties  in  the  musical  numbers,"  Rose 
replied.  "I  don't  think  I  spoke  of  any  of  the  people  in  it 


THE  TORN  CARD  239 

except  the  funny  man.  She  listened,  but  she  wasn't  par- 
ticularly interested  until  I  happened  to  mention  his  name, 
and  then  she  seemed  to  come  out  of  the  clouds  and  asked 
me  quite  sharply  to  repeat  it.  It  was  right  after  that  she 
grew  thoughtful  and  absent-minded ;  I  don'  think  she  heard 
another  word  I  said." 

"What  was  this  comedian's  name  ?"  Paul's  tone  had  quick- 
ened. 

"I  don't  remember."  Rose  shook  her  head.  "You  see, 
it  was  fresh  in  my  mind  then  from  reading  it  in  the  pro- 
gramme the  night  before,  but  I  forgot  it,  quickly.  He  played 
the  part  of  a  bush  league  pitcher  masquerading  as  an  English 
lord,  and  he  had  dreadfully  funny  legs!  It  seems  silly, 
doesn't  it,  for  me  to  have  fancied  his  name  meant  any- 
thing to  Mrs.  Hartshorne?" 

"Not  'silly',"  Paul  remonstrated.  "Remember,  I  want 
to  know  everything,  no  matter  how  trivial  it  may  seem  to 
you." 

"Well,  there  is  only  one  thing  more,"  she  announced 
after  a  pause.  "It  happened  in  February,  too,  about  the 
last  of  the  month.  I  had  just  finished  Mrs.  Hartshorne's 
letters  when  Jenny  brought  a  card  up  to  her.  It  was  early 
dusk,  but  I  could  see  plainly  the  look  which  came  over  her 
face.  'There  is  some  mistake,  Jenny,'  she  said.  'I  don't 
know  the  gentleman.' " 

"Jenny  went  away,  but  she  came  back  in  a  minute  or  two 
with  another  card,  a  business  one  this  time,  with  some 
writing  scribbled  on  it.  When  she  read  it  Mrs.  Hartshorne 
sat  as  still  as  if  she  had  been  carved  out  of  stone  for  the 
longest  time,  with  her  face  turned  away  from  me,  while 
Jenny  waited  in  the  doorway.  Finally  she  said  she  would 
be  down  in  a  minute,  and  for  Jenny  to  show  the  gentleman 
into  the  reception  room. 


240  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"She  seemed  to  forget  all  about  me  being  there,  and  I 
didn't  say  anything  to  remind  her  of  my  presence  after  I'd 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face.  She  looked  pale  but  mad,  too, 
as  though  her  fighting  blood  were  up,  and  her  eyes  just 
flashed.  She  tore  the  card  to  pieces  and  flung  it  on  the 
coals  in  the  grate,  twisted  her  hair  up  in  a  knot,  slipped  on 
a  tea-gown  and  sailed  off  downstairs.  I  didn't  hear  a  word 
of  greeting  and  she  shut  the  reception  room  door  after  her. 

"I  stood  where  she  had  left  me  until  I  saw  on  the  hearth 
rug  a  bit  of  that  torn  card  she  had  meant  to  burn.  With- 
out thinking,  I  stooped  and  picked  it  up  to  put  it  in  the  fire, 
when  some  words  on  it  caught  my  eye.  Honestly,  Mr. 
Harvey,  I  hadn't  any  intention  of  reading  them,  they  just 
jumped  out  at  me  somehow.  It  was  the  lower  right  hand 
corner  of  the  card  which  had  been  torn  square  through 
the  middle,  so  the  top  of  the  piece  I  held  had  engraved  on 
it  the  last  part  of  the  man's  name  'i-c-h-a-e-l.'  At  the 
bottom  was  'i-v-e'  in  small  letters,  then  'Agency'  with  a 
capital,  and  'I-n-c.'  Between  the  two  lines  of  engraving 
four  words  were  scribbled  in  pencil,  two  on  a  line.  'Your 
interest'  and  right  underneath  it  'brier  ring'.  I  remember 
it  distinctly  because  it  struck  me  as  being  so  queer.  Of 
course,  the  rest  of  the  message  must  have  made  sense, 
but  I  couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  guess  what  a  'brier  ring' 
was.  I  poked  the  scrap  of  paper  down  in  the  coals  when 
the  reception  room  door  opened  and  Mrs.  Hartshorne's 
voice,  that  was  usually  so  quiet,  reached  clear  up  to  me. 
" — absolutely  uninterested,"  she  was  saying.  "You've 
brought  your  wares  to  the  wrong  market !  Your  employers 
may  take  what  steps  they  choose,  but  I  shall  have  no  deal- 
ings whatever  with  you.' 

"The  front  door  slammed  and  Mrs.  Hartshorne  came 
Upstairs.  She  looked  a  little  surprised  when  she  saw  me 


THE  TORN  CARD  241 

and  murmured  something  about  being  sorry  to  have  kept 
me  waiting,  but  'a  stupid  man  had  been  sent  to  her  on  a 
business  matter.'  I  let  it  go  at  that,  in  my  own  mind,  and 
thought  no  more  about  it  until  just  the  other  night  when  it 
all  came  back  to  me.  That  'ive  Agency'  must  have  been 
'detective  agency' ;  at  least,  I  can't  think  of  anything  else  it 
could  have  stood  for." 

Paul  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  once  more. 

"Splendid !  I  told  you  we  would  make  a  real  detective 
of  you  yet,  Miss  Adare !  I'm  off,  now ;  leaving  town  again 
for  a  few  days,  but  I'll  look  you  up  as  soon  as  I  get  back, 
and  I  think  that  this  time  I  will  have  some  news  worth 
hearing." 

"Goodbye!"  There  was  a  note  of  wistfulness  in  her 
tones  which  was  lost  upon  his  preoccupation.  "I — I  hope 
you  will  be  successful,  Mr.  Harvey." 

Before  he  left  town,  Paul  rang  up  his  friend  Mr.  Glaub. 

"Principal  comedian  with  the  'Maytime  Maid'?  Feller 
with  funny  legs?"  that  gentleman  repeated.  "Sure  I  know 
him !  He  is  Fred  Sammis — 'Frog'  Sammis,  we  used  to  call 
him.  Did  contortion  stunts  in  the  Big  Time  years  ago 
dressed  as  a  frog,  but  he's  made  the  hit  of  his  life  now  in 
this  production  .  .  .  Yeh,  they're  in  New  York,  playing 
the  Hudson  Square  Theater,  and  booked  for  an  all-summer 
run.  Say,  what  are  you  after  Frog  for?" 

But  Paul  had  hung  up  the  receiver  and  Mr.  Glaub's 
curiosity  remained  unsatisfied. 


Chapter  XXI. 
THE  WOMAN  FROM  FRENCH  LICK. 

THE  JAMES  W.  Carmichael  Detective  Agency,  Incor- 
porated, was  still  listed  in  the  New  York  telephone 
book,  and  an  hour  after  he  stepped  off  the  train  on 
Monday  Paul  presented  himself  at  the  office  of  the  con- 
cern and  sent  in  his  name  to  the  present  head. 

After  some  delay  he  was  ushered  into  a  spacious  apart- 
ment, where  from  behind  an  imposing  desk  an  undersized, 
rat-eyed  individual  rose  with  a  pretense  of  affability  and 
bowed. 

"Mr.  Carmichael  died  recently,  I  regret  to  say,"  he  an- 
nounced. "I'm  Joseph  Wemple,  his  successor.  Take  a  seat, 
sir ;  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"You  are  carrying  on  the  cases  left  unfinished  at  Car- 
michael's  death?"  Paul  asked  tersely. 

"Certainly.  We  have  all  his  notes  and  memoranda  and 
I  was  in  his  fullest  confidence,  Mr. — er,  Harvey."  He 
glanced  at  the  card  before  him,  which  bore  no  address  or 
qualifying  line  to  designate  his  visitor's  business.  "I  don't 
— er,  recall " 

"I've  come  about  the  little  affair  Carmichael  was  handling 
for  Mr.  Zenas  Prall,  of  Riverboro,  later  of  Atlanta,"  Paul 
explained. 

The  other  stiffened  in  his  chair. 

"Mr.  Prall  is  dead,  also,  and  the  case  is  closed,"  he 
blustered.  "Who  sent  you  here?" 

242 


THE  WOMAN  FROM  FRENCH  LICK        243 

"And  the  subject,  the  lady  whom  Carmichael  was  shadow- 
ing; she  too  happens  to  have  died  very  recently,"  Paul  re- 
marked, ignoring  the  question.  "But  I  suppose  you  are 
aware  of  that,  if  you  read  the  papers." 

"I  know  of  the  murder,  of  course,  but  that  does  not  con- 
cern us,"  Wemple  returned.  "The  case  was  finished  and 
out  of  our  hands  before  Mr.  Carmichael's  death.  I  must 
refuse  to  discuss  it  with  you  further  unless  you  state  why 
you  have  come  to  me." 

"You  say  you  were  in  Mr.  Carmichael's  fullest  confi- 
dence? You  were  associated  with  him  in  this  business  and 
were  fully  conversant  with  his  methods  and  operations?" 
insisted  Paul  with  added  firmness. 

"I  was."    The  little  man's  tone  was  uncertain,  however. 

"Then  you  know  that  the  Horton — or  Hartshorne— case 
was  not  quite  completed  at  the  death  of  your  partner,  Mr. 
Wemple.  When  did  he  die,  by  the  way?" 

"On  March  eighth."  Wemple  leaned  forward  in  sudden 
ire.  "Look  here,  I  don't  know  what  you  are  driving  at, 
but  you'd  better  get  out  of  this  office !" 

"If  I  do,  it  will  be  to  the  District  Attorney!"  Paul  drew 
himself  up  and  his  brown  eyes  flashed.  "Why  didn't  you 
keep  up  your  partner's  game,  Wemple?  Why  didn't  you 
follow  up  that  first  blackmailing  visit  of  his  to  Mrs.  Hart- 
shorne with  another  ?  The  card  he  sent  up  to  her  containing 
the  statement  that  it  would  be  to  her  interest  to  see  him  in 
regard  to  the  Greenbrier  ring  of  grafters  and  gamblers  with 
whom  she  had  been  associated  was  calculated  to  make  her 
think  Carmichael  represented  them  instead  of  Zenas  Prall. 
It  failed  to  do  the  trick,  but  undoubtedly  she  would  have 
come  through  in  time " 

"Who  the  devil  are  you,  anyway?"  Wemple  squirmed  in 
his  chair, 


244  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I'm  in  charge  of  the  Hartshorne  case.  I  may  add  that 
the  Chief  of  Police  of  Eastopolis  has  a  very  interesting  line 
of  information  on  the  activities  of  your  agency." 

"He's  got  the  wrong  steer!"  the  little  man  declared 
hastily.  "This  concern  is  run  strictly  on  the  level  now. 
I've  made  some  changes  since  Carmichael's  time.  When  I 
told  you  I  was  in  his  confidence,  I  meant  only  as  far  as  his 
method  of  operating  to  arrive  at  a  solution ;  I  didn't  stand 
in  with  any  jockeying  or  dirty  work  he  may  have  tried  to 
pull !  I'm  running  things  straight !" 

"In  that  case,  you  will  probably  be  glad  to  co-operate 
with  us,"  Paul  remarked.  "You  have  got  Carmichael's 
record  of  the  case?  I  want  to  learn  from  you  what  you 
know  of  the  Hartshorne  woman's  movements  since  the 
Greenbrier  Springs  episode,  who  her  associates  were  and 
what  her  origin.  Here  are  my  orders  from  the  Chief." 

"I  can't  give  you  any  dope  on  her  origin."  Wemple 
pressed  a  button.  "We  were  only  employed  to  find  her 
after  she  made  that  getaway,  and  keep  her  in  sight  until 
Prall  could  obtain  his  release.  Timmons,  bring  me  the 
papers  on  file  under  P-r!" 

He  added  the  last  to  the  secretary  who  had  entered  in 
response  to  his  summons.  When  the  latter  had  departed 
upon  his  errand,  he  turned  again  to  Paul  with  a  note  of 
anxiety  underlying  his  surface  cordiality. 

"It  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  world  to 
assist  your  department,  Mr.  Harvey!  That's  the  stand 
I'm  taking,  right  from  the  start!  This  office  isn't  going  to 
work  at  cross  purposes  with  the  authorities  for  personal 
advantage  and  reputation;  it's  going  to  supplement  'em, 
that's  all.  I've  got  to  live  down  the  black  eye  Carmichael 
has  given  it,  of  course,"  he  added  virtuously.  "You  can 
telj  Chief  Burke  from  me  that  we're  always  at  his  service," 


THE  WOMAN  FROM  FRENCH  LICK       245 

Paul  smiled. 

"Did  you  or  Carmichael  know  to  what  use  your  client 
meant  to  put  the  information  you  obtained  for  him?" 

"Prall?  No,  that  wasn't  our  affair,  but  if  you  want  a 
personal  opinion,  Mr.  Harvey,  I  don't  believe  he  killed  her ; 
his  nerve  was  gone." 

The  secretary  reappeared  with  a  long  envelope  which  he 
placed  upon  the  desk  and  retired  once  more. 

"Here  we  are!"  Wemple  sorted  the  papers  with  quick, 
nervous  fingers.  "Hum!  The  subject  did  some  traveling 
since  she  left  Greenbrier,  and  she  cut  loose  from  all  her  old 
crowd,  too.  She  was  in  with  the  Jimmie  Bayard  bunch  that 
were  backing  the  Springs  resort  and  running  the  games 
there ;  they  backed  her,  too,  to  play  old  Prall  for  a  sucker. 
But  when  she  landed  him  she  skipped  without  kicking  in 
and  they  had  to  shut  up  shop  and  beat  it,  too.  They  were 
good  and  sore,  and  I  guess  that  is  why  she  kept  on  the 
jump  for  a  year  or  two  afterward.  There  was  a  rumor — 
although  we  couldn't  verify  it — that  she  had  been  a  pro- 
tegee of  old  Chris.  Waterford,  the  king  of  them  all,  who 
owned  a  chain  of  gambling  houses  from  coast  to  coast  in 
his  palmy  days. 

"Anyhow,  Alma  Horton  first  appeared  at  Greenbrier 
Springs  in  October,  1912.  We  got  this  dope  from  the 
chambermaid  who  took  care  of  her  suite.  She  must  have 
had  some  sudden  news  that  alarmed  her  a  month  later,  for 
she  packed  up  and  left  at  an  hour's  notice  and  the  girl  said 
she  acted  as  if  she  was  afraid  of  her  own  shadow.  She 
came  back,  though,  in  March  of  the  following  year,  and 
it  looks  as  though  the  Bayard  crowd  had  spotted  Prall  as 
a  come-on  for  her  and  tipped  her  off,  for  she  didn't  lose 
any  time  in  nailing  him.  She  must  have  been  a  fast  worker 
or  he  was  dead  easy;  the  bank  went  under  and  he  was 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 

arrested  before  the  end  of  the  year,  but  she  had  already 
made  her  getaway. 

"She  left  Greenbrier  in  November,  1913,  for  Philadelphia, 
staying  at  a  quiet  hotel  there  for  a  month  and  then  going 
to  a  boarding-house  in  Lakewood  until  March,  1914,  when 
she  went  to  another  select  boarding-place  in  Atlantic  City. 
After  three  months  our  operative  there  lost  her,  but  we 
picked  up  the  trail  again  and  spotted  her  in  August  in  a 
bungalow  at  Silver  Lake,  New  Hampshire.  In  October 
she  made  a  long  jump  out  to  the  Coast  and  spent  the 
winter  doing  the  less  frequented  resorts  from  San  Diego 
to  Frisco.  In  May — this  was  1915 — she  chased  up  to 
British  Columbia  and  settled  down  in  a  cottage  near  Vic- 
toria, but  she  gave  us  the  slip  again  in  August  and  jumped 
back  across  country.  We  located  her  in  October,  in  an 
exclusive  apartment  house  in  Boston.  She  stayed  there  for 
a  solid  year,  making  little  trips  around  in  the  summer.  In 
October,  1916,  she  went  to  Florida,  and  cruised  'around 
Tampa  Bay  until  the  following  spring,  when  she  took  a 
camp  up  on  Georgian  Bay  in  Canada.  In  October  she 
turned  up  at  the  Belmonde,  in  New  York,  and  after  a  month 
she  settled  in  Eastopolis.  During  all  those  years  she  went 
dead  straight,  never  tried  to  turn  a  single  trick  and  made 
acquaintances  only  among  the  most  quiet,  conservative 
people;  in  training  for  her  Eastopolis  campaign  is  how  I 
figure  it,  planning  to  bury  the  past,  get  in  right  on  old 
Frail's  money  and  cop  out  a  live  one  in  swell  society." 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"That  may  be,  but  she  could  have  dug  herself  in  in  some 
sleepy  old  town  and  stayed  there  until  she  thought  it  safe 
to  take  the  social  plunge.  Her  first  abrupt  departure  from 
the  Greenbrier  resort  is  significant,  if  your  informant  is  to 
be  depended  upon,  and  she  must  still  have  feared  some- 


THE  WOMAN  FROM  FRENCH  LICK       247 

thing  to  keep  on  the  move  as  she  did  later;  but  it  couldn't 
have  been  Prall." 

"No ;  she  thought  he  would  die  in  Atlanta,  and  she  wasn't 
wise  to  us,  either.  But  remember,  the  crowd  she  double- 
crossed  were  sore — Jimmy  Bayard  and  his  lot — and  they 
wouldn't  have  stopped  at  much  to  get  even."  Wemple 
gathered  his  papers  together  and  thrust  them  back  into  the 
envelope.  "Anyway,  that  is  all  the  dope  we  got  on  Alma 
Horton  except  that  she  went  under  half-a-dozen  different 
names  all  beginning  with  'H'  until  she  hit  New  York  last 
fall.  If  your  Chief  would  like  a  copy  of  this  memoranda — " 

Paul  cut  him  short  with  a  refusal,  stemmed  the  flow  of 
profuse,  cringing  cordiality  and  took  his  departure.  One 
salient  fact  stood  out  from  the  otherwise  unimportant  in- 
formation he  had  frightened  out  of  the  tricky  Mr.  Wemple ; 
some  undoubted  Nemesis  had  been  on  the  trail  of  the  wo- 
man from  a  period  prior  to  her  initial  appearance  at  the 
Greenbrier  Springs  resort.  Clinging  doggedly  through  the 
years,  this  mysterious  avenger  had  overtaken  her  at  last 
in  the  Ledyard's  conservatory. 

The  final  curtain  had  fallen  amid  tumultuous  applause 
at  the  Hudson  Square  Theatre  that  night  and  Fred  Sammis, 
featured  comedian  of  "The  Maytime  Maid"  had  drawn  the 
first  lung-filling  whiff  from  his  cigarette — in  defiance  of 
all  rules — and  balanced  it  upon  his  make-up  box,  when  the 
call-boy  brought  a  card  to  him. 

"  'Paul  Harvey'  ?  Now,  who  the — oh,  'sent  by  Nat 
Glaub',  eh?"  He  ruminated  aloud  as  he  read.  "I'll  see 
him,  Bob." 

The  young  gentleman  who  presently  appeared  at  the  door 
of  the  dressing-room  bore  no  earmarks  of  'the'  profession 
nor  had  he  a  journalistic  air.  The  comedian  eyed  him 


248  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

askance,  although  somewhat  disarmed  by  his  frank  smile. 

"Mr.  Sammis,  I've  got  a  nerve  to  bother  you,  I  know, 
but  I  want  to  locate  someone  and  when  I  told  Glaub  about 
it  he  said  you  might  be  able  to  help  me." 

"What's  the  idea  ?"  Sammis  asked  cautiously  as  he  puffed 
once  more  at  his  cigarette  and  reluctantly  ground  it  out 
beneath  his  eccentric,  spiked  boot.  "Who's  the  party  you're 
looking  for?" 

"A  young  woman  I  knew  as  Amy  Howard,"  Paul  replied 
mendaciously,  "although  I've  reason  now  to  believe  that 
she  answers  to  a  few  other  names  as  well.  She  appears 
to  be  about  thirty,  but  she  may  be  older;  when  I  described 
her  to  Glaub  he  laughed  and  told  me  he  thought  she  might 
be  an  old  friend  of  yours,  but  would  say  nothing  more. 
She's  a  good  looker,  with  a  face  like  a  nun  except  for  a 
little  v-shaped  scar  up  near  her  temple,  blue  eyes,  brown 
hair " 

"Say,  what's  your  game?"  the  other  interrupted  him, 
his  face  strangely  set  beneath  the  make-up.  "What  are  you 
after  the  dame  for?" 

"A  little  matter  of  three  thousand  dollars  back  and  the 
copyright  to  my  play !"  Paul  responded  with  a  lively  assump- 
tion of  grievance.  "If  you  can  put  me  wise  to  her  I'll  be 
grateful,  I  can  tell  you.  Was  Glaub  right?  Do  you  know 
her?" 

"The  woods  are  full  of  pretty,  blue-eyed,  brown-haired 
baby  dolls  with  their  hooks  out  for  an  easy  mark,"  re- 
sponded Sammis  evasively.  "Where  did  you  run  up  against 
her?" 

"In  Chicago,  a  couple  of  years  ago,"  Paul  lied  glibly. 
"I  had  written  a  one-act  dramatic  sketch  that  was  bound  to 
be  a  sure-fire  hit,  but  nobody  could  seem  to  see  the  great, 
stuff  I  had  in  it.  It  was  about " 


THE  WOMAN  FROM  FRENCH  LICK       249 

"Never  mind  the  sketch!"  interrupted  the  comedian  ap- 
prehensively. "Get  on  with  the  plot.  Where  does  the  dame 
come  in?" 

"All  right,"  agreed  Paul  with  inward  gratitude.  "I  was 
willing  to  produce  it  myself,  but  I  couldn't  get  even  a  try- 
out.  Then  I  met  this  Amy  Howard  and  she  convinced  me 
that  she  had  the  talent  and  experience  and  influence  to  put 
it  over  if  I  furnished  the  capital.  I  gave  her  my  play  and 
two  thousand  dollars,  borrowed  another  thousand  for  her, 
and  I've  never  seen  her  since  or  heard  of  my  play!" 

"You're  lucky,  if  it's  the  same  dame  as  the  one  I  knew," 
the  other  remarked,  evidently  satisfied  of  the  dramastist's 
sincerity.  "Were  you  stuck  on  her?" 

"Well,  I — she  did  have  me  going,  but  I  didn't  exactly 
fall  for  her."  Paul  hedged.  "I  say,  have  you  got  a  date? 
Will  you  come  out  and  have  a  bite  with  me  and  talk  it 
over?" 

"You,  said  something!"  The  comedian  agreed  cryp- 
tically as  he  flung  down  the  make-up  towel  and  reached  for 
his  clothes.  "I'll  be  with  you  in  a  second.  I  can't  tell 
you  where  to  locate  your  'Amy  Howard'  but  I  knew  an 
Annie  Halsey  once  who  fits  your  description.  That  little 
game  that  was  put  over  on  you  is  right  in  her  line." 

Paul's  face  expressed  disappointment,  but  a  thrill  of 
elation  tingled  through  his  veins.  Could  he  be  at  last  upon 
the  track  of  Mrs.  Hartshorne's  past? 

He  waited,  volubly  lamenting  his  lost  money  and  play 
the  while,  until  they  were  seated  in  a  nearby  chop  house 
with  two  frothy  steins  before  them.  Then  he  asked: 

"How  long  ago  did  you  know  this  Annie  Halsey?" 

"Seven  years."  Sammis'  face  darkened.  "If  it's  the 
same  girl,  you  got  off  cheap;  you've  got  your  self-respect 
left— *nd  your  nerve  and  a  chance  for  a  future.  She  took 


250  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

all  that  away  from  a  friend  of  mine — the  whitest  fellow 
that  ever  lived  for  all  he  was  quick-tempered.  He  hit  the 
toboggan  right!  I'd  like  to  know  where  she  is,  myself;  I 
owe  her  a  few  on  my  own  account  for  breaking  up  the 
team  and  putting  the  best  partner  I  ever  had  on  the  bum  1" 

He  added  the  last  observation  with  grim  earnestness 
and  a  flash  of  enraged  retrospection  in  his  eyes. 

"Who  was  he?"  Paul  asked.    "How  did  she  do  it?" 

"How  do  any  of  'em  get  a  fellow  crazy  about  'em,  and 
drag  him  down  in  the  dust?"  retorted  the  other.  "Jack 
Bennett  his  name  was,  and  we  were  top-liners  on  the  Big 
Time  for  three  seasons  solid;  comedy  rough-and-tumble 
stuff,  but  we  worked  up  a  specialty  you  couldn't  beat  in 
the  business!  Bennett  and  Sammis  it  used  to  be,  and  it 
would  be  Bennett  and  Sammis  now,  featured  in  the  'May- 
time  Maid',  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  little  she-devil!  I 
get  hot  under  the  collar  just  to  mention  her,  for  Jack  and 
I  were  like  brothers  until  she  came  along.  It  hurts  to 
think  that  I'm  on  top  now,  while  he  had  to  go  down  the 
line  because  of  her!  He  was  the  last  fellow  in  the  world 
that  you'd  think  would  fall  for  a  quiet,  pale-faced  little 
thing  like  she  was,  but  she  did  for  him." 

"How?"  repeated  Paul. 

"Married  him.  We  were  pulling  down  eight  hundred  a 
week  then  and  Jack  never  dissipated  in  those  days.  Hand- 
some, too,  and  didn't  seem  to  know  it;  that  was  the  best 
part  of  it.  Not  big  and  brawny,  but  slim  and  dark  and 
supple,  with  olive  skin  and  soft,  black  eyes — you  know  the 
kind !  The  women  were  all  mad  about  him,  but  he  never 
bothered  much  with  any  of  them  until  we  happened  to 
lay  off  for  a  week  in  Chicago  and  went  to  French  Lick  to 
see  what  the  Springs  were  like.  There  he  met  Annie 
Halsey. 


THE  WOMAN  FROM  FRENCH  LICK       251 

"He  was  dippy  over  her  from  the  start,  although  I  tried 
to  steer  him  off,  for  the  resort  was  wide  open  and  the 
crowd  pretty  swift.  Annie  was  a  swell  dresser  and  posing 
as  a  society  dame;  but  she  seemed  to  stand  in  with  the 
gambling  element,  although  she  was  the  cold-blooded  kind 
and  straight,  as  far  as  that  went.  Jack  wouldn't  listen  to 
me,  and  she  was  crazy  about  him,  too,  so  you  see  what 
chance  I  had !  When  our  season  closed  he  married  her,  and 
before  six  months  passed  she  tired  of  him  and  showed 
herself  in  her  true  colors. 

"She  was  crooked — crooked  as  they  make  'em!  It  was 
born  in  her,  I  guess.  Jack's  little  old  four  hundred  a  week 
wasn't  pin  money  to  her.  She  was  forever  hatching  up 
schemes  on  people  we  met,  from  rooking  at  cards  to  black- 
mail, and  trying  to  put  them  over.  At  first  she  thought 
she  could  make  him  stand  in  with  her,  but  after  she  saw 
the  way  he  took  that,  she  played  a  lone  hand  and  defied 
him.  Jack  loved  her  and  stuck  even  after  we  found  out 
that  she'd  been  a  silent  partner  in  that  gambling  ring,  rop- 
ing in  the  suckers  to  be  trimmed. 

"He  thought  he  could  reform  her,  but  meanwhile  his 
work  was  falling  off  and  at  last,  about  five  years  ago,  she 
left  him  flat.  He  still  believed  in  her,  though,  believed  in 
the  good  that  wasn't  there  and  waited  for  her  to  change  and 
come  back  to  him.  Instead  of  that  she  framed  up  a  case 
against  him  and  divorced  him  and  then  the  drink  got  him 
and  he  went  to  pieces. 

"You  never  saw  a  fellow  go  down  the  line  as  quick  as 
he  did !  Our  act  was  canceled,  of  course,  in  spite  of  all  I 
could  do  to  keep  him  straight.  So  I  worked  out  the  season 
in  one,  for  I  wouldn't  team  up  with  anybody  else, — trying 
to  make  him  pull  himself  together.  He  couldn't  do  it, 
though.  She'd  taken  the  heart  out  of  him.  And  within  a 


252  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

few  months  he  disappeared,  down  and  out.  I  never  could 
find  him  again,  so  you  see,  young  fellow,  if  your  Amy 
Howard  is  the  Annie  Halsey  I  knew,  you  got  off  cheap !" 

"Still,  you  don't  know  where  I  could  reach  her?"  Paul 
insisted. 

The  other  shook  his  head. 

"I  never  heard  of  her  again,  either." 

"It  is  tough  about  your  partner,"  remarked  Paul  after 
a  pause.  "Perhaps  he  has  gone  back  to  his  own  people, 
though.  Where  did  he  come  from?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  never  talked  much  about  himself ; 
but  he  had  an  older  sister  somewhere  who  worshipped  the 
ground  he  walked  on.  I've  seen  some  of  her  letters,  begging 
him  to  come  home  and  I  got  an  idea  he  had  run  away  when 
he  was  a  kid.  I  don't  know  where  she  wrote  from." 

"Do  you  remember  her  name  ?"  asked  Paul,  beckoning  to 
the  waiter. 

"Nothing  more  for  me,  old  man ;  I've  got  to  hit  the  hay ! 
.  .  .  No,  I  wouldn't  know  the  name  if  I  heard  it  again, 
and  it  won't  do  you  any  good  to  try  to  locate  her  or  Jack. 
I  don't  think  he  ever  let  her  know  that  he  had  married ;  he 
was  waiting  for  Annie  to  brace  up  and  run  straight  so  he 
could  be  proud  of  her,  and  then  when  the  bust-up  came  it 
was  too  late."  The  comedian  shook  his  head  lugubriously 
once  more.  "No,  Mr.  Harvey,  if  it  was  Annie  who  trimmed 
you,  you'd  better  say  goodbye  to  your  three  thousand  and 
thank  your  stars  it  was  no  worse.  If  I'd  been  Tack  I 
would  have " 

He  paused  and  clenched  his  hands  as  he  rose. 

"You  would — what  ?"  Paul  watched  him  curiously. 

"I  wouldn't  have  let  her  make  a  bum  out  of  me,  ruin  my 
work  and  my  happiness  and  my  life,  and  then  laugh  in  my 
face  and  go  on  her  way !  I'd  have  killed  her !" 


Chapter  XXII. 
THE  YELLOW  STREAK. 

FORMER  Police  Commissioner  Phillips  sat  back  in 
his  chair  and  regarded  appraisingly  the  youthful 
representative  of  his  fellow  official  of  Eastopolis. 

"Glad  to  do  anything  I  can  for  Chief  Burke,"  he  an- 
nounced. "Your  name  is  Harvey,  you  say?  The  greatest 
Police  Commissioner  Eastopolis  ever  had  was  named  Alfred 
Harvey." 

Paul  flushed. 

"He  was  my  father.  I  didn't  realize  that  he  was  known 
outside  of  his  own  territory,  sir.  He  was  proud  of  the 
Force,  proud  to  be  its  Chief.  And  it  was  his  greatest  ambi- 
tion that  I  should  enter  politics  myself,  even  after — "  he 
paused,  biting  his  lip,  and  then  went  resolutely  on,  "after 
I  was  lamed.  Chief  Burke  was  good  enough  to  give  me 
my  chance,  anyway." 

"How  did  it  happen?"  The  Commissioner's  keen  old 
eyes  softened  with  kindly  sympathy. 

"My  accident?  During  a  football  game  at  college  eight 
years  ago."  Paul  smiled  with  a  wistfulness  untinged  by 
any  bitterness.  "I  have  always  been  interested  in  the 
study  of  crime  and  its  detection,  and  politics  didn't  ap- 
peal to  me.  Call  it  an  idiosyncrasy,  if  you  like,  but  I  could 
not  settle  to  any  other  profession.  Every  big  crime  that 
occurred  fascinated  me,  and  at  last  when  I  thought  I  saw 
the  solution  of  a  case  which  had  evidently  stumped  the  De- 

253 


254  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

partment,  I  went  to  Chief  Burke  and  offered  my  services 
as  a  rank  amateur.  He  accepted,  because  of  my  father's 
former  reputation,  I  think,  but  events  proved  my  theory  to 
be  correct.  And  since  then  he  has  called  me  in  on  several 
unique  cases.  Of  course,  it  has  been  sheer  luck " 

"And  something  more."  The  Commissioner  tapped  his 
chair  arm  with  his  tortoise-rimmed  glasses.  "Chief  Burke 
would  never  have  put  the  Reuhl  and  Van  Vrenken  cases 
in  your  hands,  my  boy,  to  say  nothing  of  this  present  affair, 
if  he  hadn't  known  the  stuff  there  was  in  you.  The  Harts- 
horne  case  promises  to  be  one  of  the  biggest  we've  had  in 
the  East  for  years." 

"It  is  in  connection  with  that,  that  I  have  come  to  you," 
Paul  responded.  "Everyone  knows,  sir,  how  you  cleaned 
up  New  York  during  your  term  in  office,  and  stamped  out 
gambling  by  breaking  up  the  ring  who  thought  they  had 
you  buffaloed.  I  want  to  get  a  line  on  one  or  two  of  them." 

"The  boys  weren't  all  bad,"  observed  the  Commissioner 
tolerantly.  "Some  of  them  were  straight  enough  and  ran 
their  games  on  the  square,  but  I  was  out  to  put  the  lid 
on  the  city  and  I  did  it." 

"Did  you  know  Chris.  Waterford?"  asked  Paul. 

The  Commissioner  chuckled. 

"I  did — and  liked  him,  man  to  man.  No  crooked  stuff 
was  ever  pulled  in  one  of  his  houses;  the  fools  who  went 
there  to  play  trimmed  themselves  and  he  grew  rich  before 
his  game  was  shut  down  all  over  the  country." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Retired  and  living  out  in  Chicago  in  a  big  place  facing 
the  Lake.  He's  getting  on  in  years  now,  as  I  am,  and  I 
heard  that  he  went  blind  some  little  time  ago.  But  what 
has  old  Chris,  to  do  with  the  Hartshorne  case?" 

"Nothing,  personally  but  some  of  his  former  associates 


THE  YELLOW  STREAK  255 

may  be  in  possession  of  information  which  will  be  useful 
to  me,"  Paul  replied.  "Did  you  ever  hear  of  any  women 
working  in  with  him?  Making  a  play  for  rich  men,  likely 
patrons,  and  bringing  them  to  one  of  his  various  establish- 
ments to  gamble,  getting  their  rake-off  from  the  victims' 
losses?" 

"They  all  did  that."  The  Commissioner  shrugged.  "The 
proprietor  of  nearly  every  gambling  house  in  the  country 
has  a  staff,  and  you  would  be  astounded  at  the  class  of  wo- 
men who  augment  their  incomes  in  such  a  way ;  not  women 
who  frequent  actual  gambling  houses,  but  the  wide-open 
resorts  and  so-called  private  games.  Chris,  always  en- 
couraged his  women  friends,  at  a  percentage,  to  introduce 
their  acquaintances;  but  he  gave  them  a  square  deal  when 
they  came  and  a  run  for  their  money,  at  least,  and  helped 
many  a  player  out  when  he  went  broke." 

"Did  you  know  of  any  women  associates  of  his,  seven  or 
eight  years  ago  ?" 

"That  was  long  after  my  time."  The  Commissioner 
shook  his  head.  "I've  been  out  of  office  more  than  fifteen 
years.  I  couldn't  recall  any  of  them  now." 

"How  about  Jimmie  Bayard's  crowd?" 

"Broken  up.  They  were  comparative  pikers  and  there 
is  little  profit  in  their  operations  in  these  times,"  responded 
the  old  man.  "Jimmie  himself  went  to  Europe  a  short 
time  before  the  war  started  and  I  haven't  heard  of  him 
since ;  his  associates  drifted  into  more  lucrative  fields." 

Paul  rose  and  as  an  afterthought  asked  somewhat  in- 
differently : 

"Have  you  heard  during  the  last  few  years  of  a  woman 
who  identified  herself  with  their  type  of  enterprise  known 
as  Annie  Halsey?" 

The  Commissioner  pondered  for  a  moment. 


256  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"No,"  he  said  at  last.  "Chris.  Waterford  might  know, 
though.  He  had  a  trained  memory  for  faces  and  names 
and  he  kept  in  touch  with  all  of  his  fraternity,  great  and 
small.  He  wasn't  in  Jimmie's  class,  you  know;  Jimmie 
was  a  plain  crook,  but  old  Chris,  played  the  game  differently 
and  he  was  an  artist  in  his  line.  He  would  be  the  one  to  give 
you  the  information  you  want,  if  anybody  could.  How  is  the 
case  coming  on,  Harvey?" 

"Slowly,  but  I'm  beginning  to  see  daylight,  I  think,"  Paul 
answered  gravely.  "I  have  a  good  physical  description  of 
the  murderer  and  an  idea  as  to  the  identity  of  a  near  rela- 
tive of  his,  but  I've  got  to  substantiate  it  with  proofs  be- 
fore I  can  bring  any  pressure  to  bear.  Goodbye,  Commis- 
sioner; thank  you  for  seeing  me." 

"I'd  like  to  have  helped  you,  but  I've  been  out  of  the 
running  too  long,  I'm  afraid,"  the  Commissioner  remarked 
as  they  shook  hands.  "You're  young,  with  a  future  before 
you  and  the  chance  of  a  life-time  in  your  hands.  Good  luck 
to  you,  Mr.  Harvey !" 

The  fast  express  which  bore  Paul  Chicago-ward  that  af- 
ternoon seemed  fairly  to  creep,  so  great  was  his  impatience. 
A  brief  visit  must  be  paid  to  the  old  gambler  to  round  out 
the  details  of  his  ultimate  report  to  Chief  Burke  and  then 
a  longer  journey  lay  before  him;  a  journey  vague  in  possi- 
bilities, impelled  only  by  what  Paul  himself  would  have 
termed  a  "hunch",  yet  fraught,  to  his  newly  awakened 
optimism,  with  a  rosy  promise  of  successful  termination. 
The  self-distrust  with  which  he  had  viewed  his  first  theory 
that  the  motive  for  the  murder  lay  between  Beatrice  Led- 
yard's  jealousy  and  Cornelius  Swarthmore's  fear  of  ex- 
posure, and  his  later  premonitory  doubt  that  in  Zenas 
Prall  he  had  found  the  author  of  the  crime  had  alike 
vanished  from  him  with  the  new  phase  of  the  investigation. 


THE  YELLOW  STREAK  257 

A  chance  remark  of  the  lugubrious  comedian  during 
their  interview  on  the  previous  night  had  made  clear  to 
Paul  much  that  had  been  obscure  from  the  first,  and  pro- 
voked a  train  of  thought  so  undreamt-of  that  he  mentally 
gasped.  Had  he  from  the  inception  of  the  case  ignored 
blindly  what  appeared  now  as  its  most  glaring  obvious 
clue  or  had  he  wilfully  followed  the  line  of  least  resistance 
and  drifted  on  the  crest  of  events  which  had  practically 
presented  themselves  to  his  attention? 

He  was  fatigued  mentally  and  physically  with  the  strain 
of  the  prolonged  chase,  but  returning  confidence  and  en- 
thusiasm brought  renewed  strength  and  his  journey's  end 
found  him  in  an  aggressively  buoyant  mood. 

The  great  stone  house  in  which  the  retired  gambler  lived 
was  flanked  by  the  most  aristocratic  of  neighbors  and  bore 
in  its  severe  dignity  no  resemblance  to  the  flamboyant  es- 
tablishments the  proceeds  of  which  had  made  its  possession 
possible,  nor  did  the  erect,  white-haired,  austere  gentleman 
who  presently  faced  Paul  in  the  somber  reception-room  con- 
form to  his  preconception  of  Chris.  Waterford's  personality ; 
but  he  plunged  into  his  subject  without  hesitation. 

"Mr.  Water  ford,  I've  come  to  you  at  the  suggestion  of 
an  old  acquaintance  of  yours,  former  Police  Commissioner 
Phillips,  of  New  York.  He  told  me  of  your  professional 
reputation  for  squareness  and  generosity  in  the  conduct  of 
your  business  and  he  said  you  would  be  able  to  give  me  the 
information  I  require,  if  anyone  could." 

The  austerity  vanished  in  the  quick  genial  smile  which 
lighted  the  older  man's  face  and  seemed  to  bring  a  glow 
even  to  the  faded,  vacant  eyes. 

"Phillips  told  you  that,  did  he?  He  fought  me  hard  in 
his  time,  but  he  always  fought  fair.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Harvey. 
You  are  from  the  Department  yourself?" 


258  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"From  Eastopolis,"  Paul  amended.  "The  Chief  of 
Police  there  is  very  anxious  to  learn  what  he  can  of  a  wo- 
man identified  with  the  sporting  world  a  few  years  ago. 
I  understand  from  Commissioner  Phillips  that  you  have 
a  marvelous  memory  for  faces  and  names  and  in  all  prob- 
ability you  encountered  the  woman  we  are  seeking.  She 
was  very  quiet  and  refined  in  manner,  with  a  delicate,  al- 
most spiritual  face ;  medium  height,  brown  hair,  bluish-grey 
eyes  with  a  small  v-shaped  scar  near  one  temple " 

"Annie  Halsey!"  interrupted  Waterford.  His  smile  had 
disappeared  and  a  stern  expression  gathered  about  his 
firmly  molded  lips. 

"That  was  her  name,"  Paul  announced  quietly. 

"And  she  is  in  trouble  at  last?"  the  other  asked,  shaking 
his  head.  "I  knew  it  would  come  sooner  or  later ;  I  warned 
her!  But  the  yellow  streak  was  there  from  the  beginning 
and  she  couldn't  be  on  the  level  even  with  us.  'Quiet  and 
refined  in  manner'  was  she?  I  paid  for  that  refinement, 
Mr.  Harvey ;  took  her  when  she  was  a  green,  gawky,  raw- 
boned  country  girl  with  nothing  but  that  saintly  face  of  hers 
to  recommend  her  and  had  her  educated  and  trained  to 
pass  for  a  lady.  I  had  no  altruistic  motives ;  I  saw  possi- 
bilities in  her  which  might  have  brought  much  patronage 
to  my  establishments  and  I  put  up  the  money  as  a  good 
investment.  It  paid  dividends,  too,  for  a  time,  but  she 
wasn't  contented  with  the  percentage  she  got  from  the 
house.  She  was  avaricious  to  the  point  of  mania.  She 
stooped  to  every  cheap  trick  of  the  trade  to  gain  her  ends. 
I'm  glad  you  know  from  Phillips  how  I  stood,  but  I'm  not 
denying  that  my  profession  is  over-run  with  grafters  and 
welchers,  and  Annie  learned  from  them  fast.  There  are 
born  crooks  like  that,  you  know,  who  would  rather  cheat 
than  win  on  the  level — and  Annie  was  one  of  them." 


THE  YELLOW  STREAK  259 

"What  do  you  know  of  her  origin,  Mr.  Waterford?  We 
want  to  get  as  complete  a  line  on  her  as  we  can,"  Paul 
explained. 

"I  found  her  waiting  on  the  table  in  a  hotel  in  Peoria 
eleven  years  ago."  The  other  laughed  shortly.  "She 
wasn't  the  florid,  assertive  type  that  hit  you  between  the 
eyes,  but  there  was  an  attraction,  a  charm  about  her  that 
had  everyone,  from  the  drummers  to  the  night  clerk,  crazy 
about  her.  I  was  always  on  the  lookout  for  new  material,  a 
fresh  face  with  brains  back  of  it  to  bring  increased  popu- 
larity to  my  games,  and  I  studied  her.  She  told  me  that 
she  had  run  away  from  a  little  farm  near  Galesville  on 
the  bank  of  the  Mississippi  where  she  was  born,  to  travel 
and  *be  a  lady',  and  her  early  experiences  hadn't  daunted 
her.  Annie  Halsey  was  her  real  name,  too;  I  made  dis- 
creet inquiries  before  I  proposed  a  business  arrangement 
with  her  because  I  couldn't  afford  to  have  any  complica- 
tions crop  up  later. 

"I  figured  that  if,  slatternly  and  ignorant  and  uncouth 
as  she  was,  she  could  yet  attract  without  effort  the  admira- 
tion she  was  receiving  from  all  sides  in  that  sphere,  she 
would  be  a  splendid  asset  to  me  when  she  had  the  proper 
schooling  and  learned  how  to  make  the  best  of  herself. 
She  was  adaptable  and  clever,  quick  to  pick  up  ideas  and 
make  them  her  own.  I  thought  that  three  years  would 
turn  her  out  a  big  drawing  card  for  me. 

"  I  put  my  proposition  up  squarely  to  her  and  she  jumped 
at  the  chance.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  had  underestimated 
her  ability  to  learn,  for  it  was  less  than  three  years  when 
she  was  finished  and  ready  for  work.  Two  years  in  a 
convent  in  Canada  and  a  few  months'  travel  and  grooming 
with  the  wife  of  a  friend  of  mine  and  she  was  the  daintiest, 
smartest  little  lady  in  the  world!" 


260  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Just  what  was  her  line  of  work,  Mr.  Waterford?" 
asked  Paul. 

"High-class  stuff.  She  travelled  around  alone  with  a 
maid  in  style,  had  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  me,  and 
whenever  she  landed  a  new  admirer — and  they  came  in 
droves — she'd  steer  him  into  a  game.  And  the  games  were 
square,  Mr.  Harvey;  don't  make  any  mistake  about  that. 
I  built  my  reputation  on  that  fact,  and  it  stands.  No  man 
was  cheated  under  a  roof  of  mine,  and  nothing  compelled 
him  to  play  unless  he  felt  inclined.  But  my  judgment  had 
been  good ;  Annie  certainly  had  a  way  with  her !" 

"Things  went  on  swimmingly  for  over  a  year,  and  then 
I  noticed  that  Annie  was  pulling  a  few  little  stunts  on  her 
own  that  weren't  in  our  contract  and  looked  pretty  much 
like  blackmail  to  me.  I  warned  her  I  wouldn't  stand  for  it 
and  she  promised  to  drop  the  dirty  work,  but  she  had  taken 
up  with  the  crooked  crowd  on  the  sly  to  learn  from  them 
and  she  took  to  every  cheap  trick  like  a  duck  to  water. 
Looking  back  now  I  wonder  that  she  didn't  try  to  double- 
cross  me,  but  I  think  she  had  a  certain  amount  of  awe 
and  respect  for  me,  and  knew  she  couldn't  put  it  over.  I 
wasn't  afraid  that  she  would  marry  or  get  herself  tangled 
up  in  any  fool  love  affair,  for  I  thought  I  had  gauged  her 
character  accurately  and  that  she  was  too  cold-blooded  and 
avaricious  to  let  a  passing  sentiment  run  away  with  her 
good  sense. 

"It  came,  though.  I  had  forgotten  that  she  was  a 
woman,  and  when  it  hit  her  she  fell  for  it  hard.  An  im- 
pecunious actor,  too,  without  enough  to  keep  her  in 
shoe-leather,  but  he  was  handsome  in  a  dark,  clean-cut 
sort  of  way  and  crazy  about  her.  She  was  swept  off  her 
feet,  but  I  knew  how  long  it  would  last  with  a  woman  of 
her  type  and  I  couldn't  hold  her  to  our  agreement.  The 


THE  YELLOW  STREAK  261 

Devil  himself  couldn't,  when  she  once  made  up  her  mind  to 
do  a  thing,  and  I  had  to  let  her  go. 

"She  married  him — Jack  Bennett,  his  name  was — and  I 
wasn't  altogether  sorry,  for  I  had  caught  her  working  too 
near  the  deadline  again;  pulling  a  swindling  trick,  and  I 
knew  I  would  have  to  get  rid  of  her  if  I  didn't  want  trouble 
on  my  hands.  When  they  once  begin  to  go  crooked  they 
go  quick  and  I  couldn't  afford  to  have  the  reputation  of  my 
game  as  a  square  one  lowered  by  having  her  resort  to  just 
plain  thievery!" 

Paul  controlled  an  impulse  to  smile  at  the  other's  vir- 
tuously indignant  tone,  and  queried:  "Did  you  run  across 
her  again  after  her  marriage?" 

"No,  only  once.  She  grew  tired  of  him  as  quickly  as 
she  had  become  infatuated  and  led  him  a  dog's  life ;  she 
kept  in  touch  with  some  of  the  crowd  and  I  got  the  par- 
ticulars from  them.  Finally  she  divorced  him  and  the 
poor  fool  went  off  and  drank  himself  to  death  somewhere 
while  she  drifted  back  into  the  game  again.  She  came  to 
me  and  offered  to  resume  business  on  the  old  basis  but  I 
couldn't  see  her.  I  was  afraid  she  would  pull  something 
that  would  get  us  both  into  trouble  and  I  wasn't  taking 
any  chances.  That  was  about  five  years  ago,  more  or  less, 
and  she  took  up  with  Jimmie  Bayard's  crowd  and  began 
playing  the  liners  and  the  swell  resorts.  I  lost  track  of  her 
completely  after  that,  and  never  heard  a  word  until  to-day." 

"This  husband  of  hers ;  did  you  ever  meet  him?" 

"Oh,  yes.  Likeable  chap,  enough ;  not  the  average  lady- 
killer  type,  in  spite  of  his  good  looks.  He  appeared  to  be 
superior  to  the  line  of  work  he  was  engaged  in,  too,  and  out 
of  his  class.  There  was  something  foreign  about  him,  like 
the  fellows  you  meet  knocking  about  the  continent,  although 
his  name  was  good,  plain  American." 


362  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"Have  you  any  idea  where  he  came  from?" 

"None.  He  might  have  been  Italian  or  Spanish  or  South 
American  or  a  mixture  of  all  three,  to  look  at  him.  I  studied 
him  to  see  what  his  game  was  when  he  first  began  trailing 
after  Annie  at  French  Lick,  for  you  never  can  tell  what 
these  vice-crusaders  will  try  to  put  over  on  you  next  when 
they  are  on  an  anti-gambling  rampage.  But  he  was  dead 
on  the  level.  I  could  see  that  it  was  his  moods  as  much 
as  anything  else  that  first  attracted  Annie ;  he  was  dreamy 
one  minute  and  fiery  the  next  and  she  had  been  used  to  the 
airy  persiflage  of  sports  and  men  of  the  world  for  so  long 
that  the  boy's  very  intensity  awakened  her  curiosity  and 
interest.  I  never  heard  him  talk  much  about  himself,  but 
he  was  a  lot  too  good  for  her;  steady-going,  didn't  drink 
then,  or  touch  the  cards.  I  heard  that  he  did  some  sort  of 
acrobatic  comedy  work  on  the  stage  and  he  looked  like  an 
athlete  in  spite  of  not  being  husky. — But  it  was  Annie 
about  whom  you  wanted  information  and  not  her  husband. 
I  could  tell  you  more  about  her  if  I  had  kept  in  with  the 
old  crowd,  but  I  cut  most  of  them  out  when  I  retired.  Then 
my  eyes  went  back  on  me  and  I've  lived  pretty  much  alone." 

There  was  an  unconscious  note  of  sadness  in  the  old 
gambler's  tone,  but  no  trace  of  self-pity,  and  Paul  felt  an 
impulse  of  genuine  sympathy  and  understanding  borne  of 
his  own  physical  handicap,  slight  as  it  was,  but  he  held 
himself  firmly  to  the  issue  before  him. 

"We  have  a  fairly  complete  record  of  Annie  Halsey's 
activities  after  she  joined  forces  with  the  Jimmie  Bayard 
crowd,"  he  observed.  "Did  you  ever  hear  any  reference 
made  to  her  sister-in-law,  Jack  Bennett's  sister?" 

"No;  didn't  know  he  had  one,"  Waterford  responded. 
"As  I  told  you,  I  never  heard  anything  about  his  people 
pr  where  he  came  from.  I've  told  you  all  I  know  and  if  it's 


THE  YELLOW  STREAK  263 

not  a  department  secret — my  man  reads  the  newspapers 
to  me,  and  I  find  that  he  skips  a  lot — will  you  tell  me  what 
you've  got  on  Annie?" 

"If  you  will  answer  one  more  question,  Mr.  Waterford." 
The  younger  man  paused.  "You  said  just  now  that  when 
she  left  her  husband,  he  went  off  and  drank  himself  to 
death  somewhere.  Are  you  sure  of  that?  Did  you  learn 
of  his  death  from  any  authoritative  source?" 

"No,  but  he  went  all  to  pieces;  drank  his  head  off,  lost 
his  position  on  the  stage  and  went  down  and  out.  One  of 
Annie's  old  friends  met  him  some  months  later  and  told 
me  that  he  was  a  mere  shadow  of  what  he  had  been.  I 
wanted  to  help  him  out  and  tried  to  find  him,  but  he  had 
disappeared.  You  can't  want  him  for  anything;  he  never 
worked  with  her  on  any  crooked  graft,  I'll  bank  on  that." 

"Nevertheless,  I  do  want  him,"  Paul  retorted. 

The  sensitive  ear  of  the  blind  man  caught  the  significance 
in  his  tone. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  sharply.  "Has  Annie  tried  to 
implicate  him?  What  are  you  after  him  for?" 

"For  murder,"  Paul  replied.  "I  am  afraid  he  is  impli- 
cated very  gravely  and  without  any  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  woman  you  call  Annie  Halsey.  She  is  dead,  Mr.  Water- 
ford,  and  I  am  looking  for  the  man  who  killed  her." 

"Dead!"  The  other  repeated  aghast.  Then  a  light  of 
comprehension  broke  over  his  slightless  eyes.  "Eastopolis 
— the  Hartshorne  murder  case!  Poor  Annie!  I  guess  it 
was  as  good  an  end  for  her  as  any  other,  though  I  don't 
believe  Jack  Bennett  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  So  the 
rich  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  Annie  Halsey !  Well,  she  played 
for  high  stakes,  didn't  she,  even  if  she  did  hand  out  a 
crooked  deal.  She  couldn't  help  it,  I  guess;  the  yellow 
streak  was  there !" 


Chapter  XXIII. 
THE  KNOCK  UPON  THE  DOOR. 

«TT  UST  think,  Miss  Adare,  it's  three  weeks  to-day  since 
poor  Mrs.  Hartshorne  was  killed!"  Sadie  Mullen 
^j  glanced  up  at  her  new  friend  and  then  swiftly  back 
to  the  manicuring  implements  she  was  sterilizing.  Her  thin 
face  had  rounded  and  the  sullen  defiance  in  her  eyes  had 
given  place  to  a  trustful,  candid  light;  altogether  she  was 
a  vastly  improved  young  person  since  the  time,  only  a  fort- 
night before,  when  the  Chief  of  Police  had  handed  her 
over  to  the  practical  mercy  of  Rose  Adare. 

"I  know,  Sadie,"  the  latter  responded.  "I  was  thinking 
of  it  just  now  and  I  don't  see  what  keeps  him  away  so 
long." 

"Keeps  who?"  asked  Sadie. 

But  Miss  Adare,  with  a  sudden  color  in  her  cheeks  turned 
away  abruptly  without  reply  and  after  a  moment  Sadie 
went  on: 

"I  should  think  they  could  find  out  who  killed  her ;  they 
found  me  quick  enough  when  I  thought  nobody  was  on  to 
me!  Maybe  we'll  never  know  the  truth  of  it!" 

"I'm  sure  we  will!"  Rose  declared.  "He — the  police 
won't  quit  until  they  have  got  the  one  who  did  it  and  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  the  truth  came  out  sooner  than  we 
dream  of." 

As  if  in  answer,  the  entrance  doorbell  rang  and  Rose, 
waving  Sadie  aside,  rushed  to  respond  to  it. 

264 


THE  KNOCK  UPON  THE  DOOR     265 

To  the  young  man  standing  on  the  threshold  her  face 
was  the  most  heart- warming  spectacle  his  tired  eyes  could 
have  gazed  upon  and  as  their  hands  met  he  voiced  his 
thought  simply,  without  formal  greeting. 

"Oh,  but  it's  good  to  see  you !    I  wanted  to  come  before !" 

"Did  you  just  get  back  to  town,  Mr.  Harvey?"  There 
was  a  new  and  strange  note  of  shy  self -consciousness  in 
her  tone. 

"Not  an  hour  ago.  I  stopped  in  at  Headquarters  and 
then  came  straight  to  you;  I  promised  you  news  on  my 
return  and  I've  brought  it  to  you." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you've  found  the  murderer  of  Mrs. 
Hartshorne?"  she  cried.  Then  as  they  entered  the  little 
drawing-room  and  the  sunlight  struck  his  face  she  added: 
"Oh,  but  you  have!  I  can  see  it  in  your  eyes! — You  look 
tired,  too ;  almost  worn  out.  Sit  down,  do,  and  let  me  get 
you  a  cup  of  coffee  or  something!" 

"Thanks,  no.  I  am  tired,  but  it's  the  reaction  I  suppose. 
I  think  we've  reached  the  solution  at  last,  Miss  Adare,  al- 
though we  haven't  yet  taken  the  man  into  custody  and  until 
we  do  I  won't  mention  his  name.  I  did  not  let  the  Chief 
know  in  advance  of  my  return  and  he's  out  of  town,  him- 
self; won't  he  back  until  this  afternoon,  but  I  think  the 
case  will  be  closed  then.  I  only  stopped  in  for  a  moment 
to  tell  you  that  without  your  help  I  should  never  have  suc- 
ceeded, and  to  thank  you." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Harvey!"  Rose,  abashed,  averted  her  face. 
"What  did  I  do,  I  should  like  to  know?" 

"You  gave  me  the  first  real  clue,  on  the  very  day  after 
the  murder  was  discovered  when  I  met  you  outside  Mrs. 
Cowles'  home,  do  you  remember?  Only,  I  was  too  blind 
to  see  it,  then.  Later — the  last  occasion  on  which  I  saw 
you.  in  fact — you  put  me  once  more  upon  the  track." 


266  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about!"  she  de- 
clared in  all  sincerity.  "I  wish  you  didn't  have  to  stick 
to  riddles,  for  I'm  almost  dying  of  curiosity !  Would  you — 
would  you  mind  coming  back  and  telling  me,  when  it's  all 
over,  I  mean,  and  you  have  rested  a  little  ?" 

"Indeed  I  will!"  Paul  said  heartily.  "It  is  only  your 
due,  anyway,  for  the  credit  all  beolngs  to  you."  He  paused 
and  added  mischievously,  "You  spotted  the  murderer 
first,  although  you  didn't  know  it." 

"I — what?"  Rose  gasped. 

"You  sat  within  a  yard  of  him  for  an  hour  or  more,  and 
told  me  all  about  it." 

"When  ?    Where  ?"  she  cried  "Heavens,  if  I  had  known !" 

"At  the  funeral.  Do  you  remember  when  Dr.  Perrine 
was  reading  the  service  so  impressively  and  someone  be- 
hind you  laughed  aloud  in  derision?  Remember  the  dark 
young  man  with  the  hard,  bold,  black  eyes  who  stared  at 
you  from  the  pew  back  of  yours  when  you  turned?" 

"You  can't  mean  it  was  he!"  she  exclaimed.  "How 
could  he  have  gotten  in  the  Ledyard's  house  and  why  should 
he  have  killed  Mrs.  Hartshorne  ?" 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  this  evening;  that  is,  if  I  may 
come  to-night?"  Her  eyes  gave  him  answer  and  he  added 
hurriedly:  "It's  been  a  wonderful  pleasure  aside  from  the 
help  you've  given  me,  Miss  Adare,  to  have  had  you  work- 
ing on  the  case  in  a  sort  of  partnership  with  me.  For  a 
man  like  me,  whose  work  means  his  whole  existence,  it  is 
a  rare  treat  to  meet  someone  who  takes  an  enthusiastic  in- 
terest as  you  have  done !" 

But  Rose  did  not  seem  to  hear  his  praise. 

"There  are  other  things  in  life  for  a  man,  besides  work," 
she  said  slowly. 

"For  a  strong,  well,  active  chap,  perhaps,  there  are  any 


THE  KNOCK  UPON  THE  DOOR     267 

number  of  outdoor  stunts ;  big  game  hunting  and  polo  and 
all  that.  But  I'm  handicapped.  They  wouldn't  even  take 
me  in  the  service,  you  know,  because  of  my  limp.  Crime 
detection  has  always  been  a  sort  of  hobby  with  me  and  now 
I  have  made  it  my  life-work.  The  mere  social  game  never 
appealed  to  me  and  since  my  accident  at  college  I've  always 
been  shy  with  girls;  can't  play  tennis  or  dance  very  well, 
you  know,  and  I  have  rather  shut  myself  up  with  my  books 
and  criminological  studies."  His  eyes  had  clouded,  although 
he  strove  to  speak  lightly,  and  his  smile  was  none  too  mirth- 
ful. "My  father  intended  me  for  politics,  I  was  inclined 
at  first  to  a  strenuous  outdoor  life,  but  fate  has  made  of 
me  an  investigator  into  the  life  secrets  of  my  fellow  human 
beings." 

The  girl's  eyes  had  grown  misty. 

"Like  me,"  she  said  simply.  "My  father  was  a  college 
professor  and  he  wanted  me  to  become  a  great  writer.  I 
am — of  other  people's  letters.  I  know  I  am  frightfully 
slangy,  but  it  is  a  habit  adopted  in  the  beginning  in  sheer 
protest  against  fate.  My  father  died,  my  stories  wouldn't 
sell  and  I  had  to  take  up  this.  But  you — you  shouldn't 
shut  yourself  away  from  everyone,  Mr.  Harvey,  just  be- 
cause of — of  that  slight  accident.  There  is  so  much  in 
life,  so  much  fun  and  warm  companionship  and  hap- 
piness  " 

"There  would  be  all  of  those  things  if  there  were  some- 
one to  share  them  with."  He  had  come  very  close  to  her. 
"Someone  for  a  fellow  to  bring  his  triumphs  to,  and  his 
failures;  someone  who  wouldn't  mind  if  he  limped  a  little 
beside  her  as  long  as  his  arms  were  strong  to  protect  her 
and  every  beat  of  his  heart  was  hers !  Rose,  perhaps  some 
time  you  might  care " 

"If  you  please,  Miss  Adare!"    A  voice  wailed  from  the 


268  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

region  of  the  kitchen.    "Do  you  remember  how  long  that 
manicure  teacher  said  I  was  to  soak  the  cuticle  knife?    The 

enamel's  all  coming  off  the  handle " 

"I'll  be  there,  Sadie!"  There  was  a  new,  sweet  timbre 
in  Rose  Adare's  voice  and  she  turned  to  Paul  and  held  out 
both  hands.  "  'Someone  for  a  fellow  to  bring  his  triumphs 
to,' "  she  repeated  very  softly.  "You  are  coming  to-night 
to  tell  me  or  your  success  in  the  Hartshorne  case,  aren't 
you?  I  shall  be  waiting." 

At  three  that  afternoon  Chief  Burke  thundered  at  the 
door  of  Paul's  apartments  and  precipitated  himself  forth- 
with upon  his  young  confrere  with  characteristic  expostula- 
tion. 

"Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  you  would  be  back  to-day  ?" 
he  demanded.  "Where've  you  been  anyway,  Paul,  and 
what's  the  idea  of  leaving  word  for  me  to  come  here  with 
a  John  Doe  warrant,  two  plain-clothes  men,  and  no  more 
knowledge  of  what  is  going  on  than  the  newspapers  them- 
selves !  They've  been  letting  out  a  holler  that  will  echo 
until  the  next  Mayor  gets  in !" 

"Well,  you'll  be  able  to  silence  that  echo  in  an  hour, 
Chief !"  Paul  smiled.  "Where  did  you  leave  the  boys  ?" 

"Out  in  the  hall,  till  you  tell  me  the  truth.  Have  you 
found  him,  Paul?  Have  you  got  the  man  who  killed  Mrs. 
Hartshorne  ?" 

"You  will  have  him  yourself;  he's  coming  here,"  re- 
sponded Paul  coolly.  "It  was  the  easiest  way  to  walk  him 
into  a  trap,  but  before  he  arrives  a  woman  will  be  here 
who  can  tell  you  the  whole  story  better  than  I  could.  She 
might  have  told  us  long  ago  if  we  hadn't  both  been  blind! 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  sir,  you  had  the  key  of  the  whole 
affair  in  your  hands  before  I  ever  appeared  on  the  scene 


THE  KNOCK  UPON  THE  DOOR     269 

of  the  investigation,   at  the   moment  you   sent   for  me." 

"How  is  that?"  the  Chief  demanded  suspiciously.  "If 
you  mean  that  little  smear  of  blood  on  the  inside  of  the 
cloak  upstairs " 

"I  mean  when  you  told  me  over  the  'phone  that  a  murder 
had  been  committed  and  Matilde  fainted." 

"Matilde!" 

Paul  nodded. 

"She  took  it  coolly  enough  when  she  thought  her  mistress 
had  killed  herself,  but  went  all  to  pieces  at  the  word  'mur- 
der'. That  was  because  she  had  a  very  clear  idea  as  to 
who  was  guilty,  providing  such  a  crime  had -actually  been 
committed,  and  the  news  was  an  overwhelming  shock.  I 
ran  into  Miss  Adare,  the  secretary,  the  next  day,  after  in- 
terviewing Mrs.  Cowles,  and  she  told  me  what  Matilde  had 
said  to  her  as  they  stood  together  beside  the  body  of  Mrs. 
Hartshorne;  that  she  would  have  guarded  her  with  her 
own  life  from  harm,  but  as  long  as  Mrs.  Hartshorne  had 
killed  herself,  she — Matilde — saw  no  occasion  for  emotion. 
Do  you  see  the  significance  of  it,  sir?  She  had  no  love  for 
Mrs.  Hartshorne;  Sadie  has  told  us  how  in  loathing  she 
burned  the  clothes  her  mistress  gave  her.  She  hated  her 
more  than  anything  on  earth,  yet  she  would  have  protected 
her  from  violence  with  her  own  life ;  not  for  the  other  wo- 
man's sake  but  to  prevent  her  possible  murderer  from  in- 
curring the  consequences  of  such  an  act,  if  she  could." 

"I'm  beginning  to  see !"  the  Chief  remarked.  "She  knew 
Mrs.  Hartshorne's  life  was  threatened,  and  stuck  by  her 
as  the  surest  way  of  preventing  a  tragedy.  But  the  fellow 
who  had  it  in  for  her  mistress — if  it  were  a  man,  as  you 
say — what  was  he  to  Matilde  ?  Why  should  she  shield  him  ?" 

"Because  she  loved  him  as  much  as  she  hated  Mrs.  Harts- 
horne." Paul  threw  open  the  door.  "I  think  we  had  better 


270  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

have  the  boys  in  now.  She  will  be  here  at  any  moment  and 
I  want  them  out  of  sight  when  she  comes." 

The  two  plain-clothes  men  were  summoned  and  stationed 
one  behind  the  drawn  curtains  which  shut  off  the  bed- 
room and  the  other  in  an  alcove  near  the  door.  Paul  took 
a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and  placed  it  on  the  table  near  to 
his  hand,  concealed  behind  a  little  pile  of  magazines. 

"But  she  hasn't  even  tried  to  communicate  with  a  soul !" 
expostulated  the  Chief  half -incredulously.  "I've  had  her 
watched  day  and  night !" 

"A  fact  of  which  she  was  very  well  aware,  as  you  told 
me  yourself,"  Paul  reminded  him.  "Matilde  is  no  fool 
or  she  could  not  have  trailed  Mrs.  Hartshorne,  discovered 
her  plans,  gone  to  the  Belmonde  in  advance  of  her  and  in- 
terested and  cajoled  her  into  offering  the  position  as  maid." 

"Then  it  was  all  a  frame-up?  Matilde  deliberately  took 
the  place " 

"Made  it,"  Paul  interrupted  tersely.  "Bribed  the  last 
maid  to  leave  so  that  she  might  step  into  her  shoes.  And 
Matilde  is  no  servant,  Chief ;  her  whole  story  is  a  tissue  of 
lies.  She  was  better  born  than  her  mistress  and  never  even 
saw  France." 

"Well,  what  the — !"  Chief  Burke  began  explosively,  but 
Paul  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

"Look  out!     She  is  coming." 

He  went  to  the  door  and  flinging  it  open  once  more  he 
called : 

"Is  that  you,  Matilde  ?  It  is  dark  on  the  stairs ;  can  you 
see  your  way?" 

"But  yes,  Monsieur."  The  quiet,  self-contained  tones  re- 
plied to  him.  "I  cannot  comprehend  what  it  is  for  which 
you  desire  my  presence,  but  I  have  come.  As  you  suggest, 
Monsieur,  I  am  of  course  anxious  to  do  what  I  can  to  aid 


THE  KNOCK  UPON  THE  DOOR     271 

you  in  clearing  up  the  mystery  of  Madame's  death " 

She  paused  on  reaching  the  door  and  noted  the  presence 
of  the  Chief.  Her  dark  eyes  flashed  a  cold  glance  of  sus- 
picion at  Paul  and  then  discreetly  lowered  their  gaze. 

"That  is  good,"  Paul  commented  gravely  as  he  closed  the 
door  behind  her.  "Sit  here,  please.  I  am  glad  you  have 
taken  this  attitude  at  last,  Matilde,  for  now  we  shall  get  at 
results." 

"But  what  more  can  I  say?"  Matilde  gazed  from  one 
stern  face  to  the  other.  "I  have  already  told  you  my 
story " 

"And  a  very  ingenious  one  it  is,"  observed  Paul.  "Un- 
fortunately for  you,  however,  I  have  been  able  to  disprove 
every  statement  you  have  made  heretofore  and  now  we  are 
going  to  get  at  the  truth.  In  the  first  place,  Matilde,  there 
is  no  yacht,  the  'Belle  Elise',  registered  in  France,  nor  on 
any  harbor  records  here  of  nine  years  ago;  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Felix  Courthier  do  not  exist,  nor  did  any  of  the 
other  people  with  whom  you  claimed  to  have  held  positions. 
Your  accent  is  not  that  of  France  and  you  were  too  eager 
to  impress  me  with  the  supposition  that  the  birth-records  of 
Peronne — the  town  you  adopted  as  yours  in  your  story — 
had  been  destroyed  in  the  war.  Also  you  were  quite  sure 
that  you  had  never  been  to  New  Orleans " 

He  paused,  for  the  woman  who  had  sat  unmoved  beneath 
his  indictment  flinched  at  his  last  words  and  her  sallow  face 
slowly  whitened  as  if  the  blood  were  being  drained  from  it. 

She  raised  stony  eyes  to  his  and  spoke  quietly : 

"Well,  Monsieur?" 

"I  have  just  come  from  there,"  he  went  on.  "In  the 
French  quarter  on  St.  Louis  Street  there  are  many  people 
who  know  you  well,  Mane  Benoit,  and  they  remember  your 
brother  Jacques." 


THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"It  is  not  forbidden  to  adopt  a  given  name  which  pleases 
one  better  than  one's  own,  Monsieur,  and  where  my  home 
is  does  not  concern  the  police."  Her  eyes  did  not  waver. 
"I  am  not  guilty  of  Madame's  death." 

"No.  You  would  have  prevented  it  if  you  could,"  Paul 
agreed.  "You  would  have  kept  your  brother's  hands  free 
from  blood  at  all  costs " 

"A-ah!"  She  sprang  to  her  feet  with  an  uncontrollable 
cry  of  anguish  which  she  as  quickly  smothered  beneath  an 
outburst  of  rage.  "You  are  mad,  both  of  you!  I  will  not 
listen!  What  has  my  brother  to  do  with  Madame  Harts- 
horne?  Because  you  are  stupid,  you  cannot  find  the  one 
who  killed  her,  you  would  put  the  crime  on  the  first  person 
you  think  defenseless !  My  brother  I  have  not  seen  in  years ; 
he  may  be  dead  himself!  You  must  be  desperate  indeed, 
Messieurs,  to  have  tried  to  drag  him  into  the  hideous  af- 
fair. As  for  me,  I  have  done  nothing.  You  cannot  hold 
me!  I  will  go " 

"Not  so  fast,  Marie.  You  ask  me  what  your  brother  had 
to  do  with  the  woman  known  here  as  Mrs.  Hartshorne; 
shall  I  tell  you  ?  Shall  I  recall  the  time  when  Jacques  Benoit 
became  Jack  Bennett,  vaudeville  artist?  When  he  met  and 
married  Annie  Halsey  and  she  ruined  his  career?"  Paul 
eyed  her  steadily.  "His  old  partner,  Fred  Sammis,  can  tes- 
tify that  the  dead  woman  was  your  brother's  wife,  and  no 
one  in  the  world  had  greater  cause  to  wish  her  dead  than 
he." 

The  woman  who  had  called  herself  Matilde  wavered. 
Then  her  eyes  fell  and  she  made  a  gesture  of  surrender. 

"It  is  true,  Monsieur.  You  have  learned  too  much;  I 
shall  not  try  to  deceive  you  any  longer  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  I  should,  for  my  brother  is  innocent  and  beyond 
reach  of  your  accusation!  He  is  dead!" 


THE  KNOCK  UPON  THE  DOOR     273 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  asked  Paul.  The  Chief's  face 
was  a  study. 

"But  yes,  Monsieur!"  she  cried  eagerly.  "She,  that 
creature,  killed  him  as  surely  as  she  herself  has  been  killed. 
She  broke  his  heart,  drove  him  to  dissipation  and  despair, 
and  finally  to  suicide!  He  drowned  himself,  Monsieur! 
I  would  not  claim  his  body  because  of  the  disgrace,  and  he 
lies  in  a  nameless  grave  in  New  Orleans.  There  were  only 
us  two  left,  Monsieur,  my  little  brother  and  I,  and  I  tried 
to  be  sister  and  mother  both  to  him,  but  he  was  of  the 
artistic  temperament  and  impatient  of  restraint.  He  ran 
away  from  home  and  did  many  things  well  before  he  drifted 
upon  the  stage  of  the  theater.  He  was  always  good,  my 
Jacques ;  clean,  and  honest,  and  fearless,  and  with  the  high 
ambition  until  he  met  that  woman  of  a  wicked  heart  and 
she  took  from  him  all  happiness!  If  you  have  learned  so 
much,  you  know  that  after  she  had  shamed  him,  dragged 
him  in  the  dust,  made  of  his  ambition  a  dead  thing,  she  flung 
him  aside  like  an  old  glove  and  obtained  her  freedom  once 
more.  He  drifted  back  to  me,  broken  and  in  despair.  I 
tried  to  make  a  man  again  of  what  she  had  left  but  it 
was  useless,  and  so  he  died!  As  for  her,  Monsieur,  what 
she  did  to  my  brother  she  may  have  done  to  another  in 
the  years  that  have  passed  and  that  other  has  taken  his 
revenge.  I  do  not  know." 

"Then  why  did  you  stoop  to  seek  a  menial  position  with 
your  sister-in-law,  Marie?"  Paul  queried.  "Why  did  you 
serve  the  woman  who  had  ruined  your  brother  ?  What  was 
your  object  in  tracing  her  to  Georgian  Bay  last  summer, 
learning  her  plans  from  her  maid  and  bribing  that  maid  to 
leave  that  you  might  step  into  her  place?" 

"Perhaps  I  wished  to  see  what  she  was  like,"  Marie 
Benoit  responded  after  a  pause.  "Perhaps  I,  too,  desired 


*74  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

revenge  in  a  different  way  than  that  of  murder,  Monsieur. 
As  Madame  Hartshorne  she  was  raising  herself  high  and 
there  in  the  background  was  I,  waiting  until  she  reached 
the  top  to  shame  and  drag  her  down  as  she  had  dragged  my 
brother!  But  the  opportunity  was  taken  out  of  my  hands 
and  it  may  be  that  it  is  better  so.  I  am  content." 

She  shrugged  as  though  a  load  was  shifted  from  her 
shoulders,  but  her  eyes  could  not  meet  his  and  Paul  bent 
forward  earnestly  across  the  table. 

"Your  wit  is  nimble,  Marie,  but  it  will  not  suffice.  Your 
brother  is  not  dead!  He  is  here  in  Eastopolis  at  this 
moment ;  I  have  seen  and  talked  with  him.  Your  desire  was 
not  revenge  upon  your  sister-in-law  but  to  prevent  your 
brother  from  carrying  out  his  acknowledged  threat  against 
her  and  incurring  the  penalty.  You  have  failed !" 

Her  lips  moved  but  no  words  came.  Only  her  eyes,  dark 
with  dread,  clung  to  his  as  if  she  would  draw  from  them 
even  at  the  last  a  refutation  of  his  inexorable  words.  Then 
slowly  her  head  dropped  and  she  sank  back  senseless  in 
her  chair. 

As  Chief  Burke  rose  and  Paul  sprang  to  her  side,  a  faint, 
melodious  sound  came  to  their  ears  and  they  paused  tensely 
and  glanced  at  each  other. 

Someone  was  bounding  lightly  up  the  stairs,  whistling  a 
strain  of  infectious  syncopation,  a  slow,  dragging,  sensuous 
air  which  lingered  in  echo  as  the  thin,  clear  whistle  ceased 
and  a  knock  sounded  upon  the  door. 

"Come  in."  Paul's  voice  was  steady  but  his  hand  had 
sought  and  closed  about  the  pistol  upon  the  table.  . 

The  Chief,  too,  reached  toward  his  pocket  and  the  cur- 
tains at  alcove  and  bed-room  stirred  as  the  door  swung  open 
and  Max  Vallory,  the  jazz  ban4  (}ru,mm,er,  stepped  non-. 
across  the  threshold, 


Chapter  XXIV. 
JACQUES  BENOIT  LAUGHS  LAST. 

THE  woman  in  the  chair  stirred  and  her  eye-lids 
fluttered  open.  Her  gaze  wandered  in  bewilderment 
for  a  moment  and  then  fastened  in  a  wild  stare  upon 
the  stiffened  figure  in  the  doorway. 

She  noted  his  quick  glance  dart  about  the  room  and  the 
nonchalant  unconcern  change  to  swift  comprehension  and 
reckless  defiance;  she  saw,  too,  the  noiseless  figure  which 
crept  from  the  alcove  and  slipped  behind  the  man  at  the 
door  and  her  lips  parted  in  a  low  moan  of  utter  despair. 

"Jacques !    They  know !    They  know !" 

The  man  shrugged,  glanced  over  his  shoulder  and  came 
forward. 

"I  may  sit  down?"  he  asked  with  mocking  courtesy. 
"This  is  a  surprise,  gentlemen,  but  not  an  unexpected  one. 
I  have  wondered  how  long  it  would  take  you  to  discover  the 
fairly  obvious  truth." 

"You  admit,  then,  that  you  shot  your  divorced  wife, 
Annie  Bennett,  alias  Mrs.  Allison  Hartshorne?"  the  Chief 
began  in  his  most  stern,  official  manner. 

Vallory  nodded  indifferently  with  a  hint  of  amusement 
in  his  hard  eyes. 

"You  can  cut  the  red  tape,"  he  advised  coolly.  "I  put 
her  out  of  the  way  at  last,  as  I  meant  to  from  the  begin- 
ning, and  I  didn't  run  away.  If  the  chance  for  a  clean 
ghot  hadn't  come  when  she  stood  alone  there  in  the  coq- 


270  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

servatory,  I  would  have  dropped  her  in  the  ball-room  in  the 
presence  of  a  hundred  people.  I  wanted  to  get  her  and  I 
did ;  that  is  all  there  is  to  it,  but  you  can  let  Marie  go.  She 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair,  except  to  try  to  prevent  it, 
and  I'll  answer  for  my  own  act.  It  is  the  best  thing  I  ever 
did." 

Marie's  head  fell  into  her  hands  and  the  slow  tears  crept 
between  her  fingers,  but  no  one  glanced  at  her.  All  eyes 
were  fastened  upon  the  dapper,  defiant  figure  which 
sprawled  apparently  at  ease  in  the  chair  before  them. 

"May  I  smoke?"  he  asked.  "My  cigarettes  are  in  my 
upper  vest  pocket,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  reach  for  them 
without  suspicion.  I  haven't  got  a  gun  on  me,  and  if  I  had 
I  wouldn't  use  it.  I've  no  desire  to  cheat  you  out  of  the 
reward  of  your  painstaking  efforts. — Thank  you." 

He  acknowledged  Paul's  curt  nod  and  producing  a  silver 
case,  selected  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it.  As  the  first  puff 
of  smoke  curled  to  the  ceiling  he  laughed  in  an  odd  exultant 
fashion  and  Marie,  whose  hands  had  fallen,  gasped  con- 
vulsively and  was  still. 

"I  suppose  you  want  to  know  how  I  did  it,  don't  you?" 
he  drawled.  "It  was  some  stunt,  wasn't  it,  to  shoot  a 
woman  down  before  the  eyes  of  a  hundred  people  and  get 
away  with  it!  I  was  rather  proud  of  the  idea,  myself. 
When  you  came  to  me  a  fortnight  ago,  Mr.  Harvey,  and  I 
told  you  how  I  had  conceived  my  version  of  the  jazz  band 
from  watching  the  antics  of  a  group  of  ragged  negro  musi- 
cians on  the  levee  you  weren't  interested  enough  to  inquire 
into  the  details  of  my  performance.  Had  you  been,  I  was 
quite  prepared  to  tell  you  that  among  the  various  noise- 
producing  instruments  I  had  added  to  my  collection  was  a 
small  pistol  from  which  I  fired  blank  cartridges  in  a  double- 
forte  climax.  I  depended  on  the  old  slogan  of  the  shell- 


JACQUES  BENOIT  LAUGHS  LAST          277 

game  operator:  'The  hand  is  quicker  than  the  eye'!  It 
didn't  fail  me,  you  see." 

"How  did  you  know  your  opportunity  would  come?" 
Paul  asked. 

The  other  shrugged  again. 

"I  didn't.  Chance  arranged  that.  I  read  in  the  papers 
that  day  that  she  would  be  present  at  the  dance  and  I  came 
prepared.  Otherwise  I  should  have  got  her  somewhere  if  I 
had  to  break  into  her  house  to  do  it"  he  smiled.  "Miss  Led- 
yard  proved  an  unexpected  accomplice,  when  she  found  the 
body  and  had  the  conservatory  door  locked,  but  I  haven't 
figured  out  yet  how  it  was  taken  home  where  it  was  found 
the  next  day.  However,  that's  not  the  point." 

In  spite  of  his  easy  tone  the  hand  which  held  the  cigarette 
began  to  tremble  from  the  strain  of  the  tension  under  which 
he  held  himself  and  regretfully  he  ground  out  the  stub  in 
the  ash  tray  on  the  table  before  him. 

Marie  noted  the  motion  and  started  forward  in  her  chair, 
but  still  smiling  he  shook  his  head  at  her. 

"I  don't  have  to  tell  you  my  reason,  I  guess,  for  killing 
Annie.  I  was  down  and  out  for  fair  when  I  got  hold  of 
that  jazz  idea  two  years  ago  and  pulled  myself  together.  I 
had  more  ambition,  then,  than  I'd  ever  had  before,  for  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  find  Annie  and  fix  her,  and  I  needed 
money  for  that.  I  knew  I  would  run  across  her  some  day, 
I  felt  it  like  a  promise.  But  I  didn't  wait  for  that.  My  line 
of  work  took  me  to  the  places  she  would  naturally  frequent 
and  I  never  stopped  looking  for  her ;  I  picked  up  her  trail 
more  than  once  but  I  was  just  too  late  until  now.  She  knew 
I  was  after  her,  for  she  had  been  warned  and  she  must 
have  taken  alarm. 

"Marie,  too,  knew  what  I  intended  and  when  she  started 
out  to  prevent  it  I  only  had  to  have  her  watched,  and  with- 


278  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

out  knowing  it  she  led  me  straight  to  the  woman  I  wa$> 
looking  for.  I  had  thought  of  Annie  as  working  her  sly, 
crooked  games  in  some  sporting  crowd  and  I  didn't  expect 
to  find  her  breaking  into  society  here.  When  I  learned  of  it 
I  canceled  the  dates  I  had  signed  up  for  my  orchestra,  and 
arranged  a  new  route  that  would  land  us  in  Eastopolis." 

He  paused  as  an  uncontrollable,  nervous  shudder  swept 
him  and  a  drop  of  perspiration  started  upon  his  brow. 

"It  was  then  that  I  added  the  blank  cartridge  pistol  to  my 
drums  and  rattles  and  the  rest  of  the  outfit;  I  wanted  to 
get  my  men  accustomed  to  the  sound  of  the  shot  so  that 
they  wouldn't  tumble  to  it  when  my  big  chance  came.  You 
know  what  a  hit  we  made  when  we  got  here,  and  how  the 
swell  society  crowd  fell  for  the  jazz  stuff  and  mobbed  us 
for  engagements  after  we  had  played  those  two  weeks  in 
the  Grosvenor  grill.  I  took  the  blanks  out  of  my  pistol 
and  reloaded  it  with  the  real  thing  and  every  night  I  looked 
for  her  there  but  she  didn't  show  up.  We  played  four  big, 
private  dates  later  on  but  I  never  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
and  I  was  beginning  to  think  that  I  would  have  to  go  out 
after  her,  when  along  came  the  Red  Cross  affair  and  the 
announcement  that  she  would  attend  it.  That  was  the  best 
news  I'd  had  in  five  years !" 

His  voice  had  grown  husky  and  now  it  ceased  and  he 
passed  a  hand  across  his  dampened  brow  in  bewildered 
fashion. 

"I  guess  there  isn't  any  more  to  tell.  With  your — keen 
perceptions — you  can  fill  in  the  gaps. — How  dark  it's  grow- 
ing!" 

The  Chief  glanced  in  amazement  at  the  sunlight  stream- 
ing in  the  window  and  then  at  Paul  who  had  taken  a  sudden 
step  forward,  his  face  swiftly  tensed. 

Marie  was  before  him.     Springing  from  her  chair 


JACQUES  BENOIT  LAUGHS  LAST          279 

she  rushed  to  the  man  who  had  sunk  with  closed  eyes,  and 
cradling  his  head  in  her  arms,  turned  fiercely  on  the  others. 

"Leave  him  to  me !"  she  cried.  "You  fools !  Don't  you 
see  it  is  the  end?  My  little  Jacques,  they  cannot  hurt  you 
now !  It  was  the  right  way,  the  only  way,  but  Mon  Dieu ! 
that  I  had  to  sit  by  and  see  you  do  it,  saying  no  word !" 

"He's  done  for  himself!"  the  Chief  exclaimed.  "But 
how ?" 

"The  cigarette  case!"  Paul  extracted  it  from  the  pocket 
of  the  limp  form  and  opened  it.  Among  the  cigarettes  there 
lay  several  small,  grayish-white  tablets.  "When  he  took  a 
smoke  he  slipped  one  of  these  between  his  lips !" 

"Put  it  over  on  us  at  the  last,  by  Gad!"  Chief  Burke 
seated  himself  heavily  in  his  chair  once  more.  "Any  use 
calling  for  a  doctor,  Paul  ?" 

The  latter  shook  his  head  and  even  as  he  stepped  back 
the  erstwhile  Vallory  moved,  gently  pushing  aside  his  sister's 
arms  and  with  a  supreme  effort  his  heavy  lids  lifted. 

"Sorry — not  to  have  played  fair."  His  voice  was  a  mere 
rasping,  toneless  whisper.  "But  a  Benoit  musn't  die — in 
the  Chair.  You  forgot  I — I  had  been  an  actor  and — it  was 
almost — too — easy !" 

Through  the  slow,  dragging  minutes  they  watched  him 
as  if  fascinated  and  once  more  he  rallied. 

"Be  sure  you  tell  Frog — I  came  back."  The  breath  was 
rattling  in  his  throat.  "He  believed  in  me  as  I — believed  in 
her.— It's  so  cold !— Marie " 

His  head  fell  forward  upon  his  breast  and  with  a  sob 
the  woman  gathered  it  close  to  her  again. 

"He's  gone."  Chief  Burke  cleared  his  throat  and  mo- 
tioned the  two  officers  outside. 

Save  for  the  woman's  subdued  grief  the  room  was  very 
still. 


280  THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"You've  won,  Paul.    You've  solved  the  case." 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"It  was  Rose  Adare,  really,"  he  responded.  "Her  quick 
mind  set  me  on  the  right  track.  That,  and  the  lucky  find  of 
the  second  bullet." 


(The  End.) 


i  IHIII!  II!!  Hill  I 

A     000126310 


